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1  t  3 


1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

Bert  Lloyd's  Boyhood. 


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T 


ERT  LLOYD'S  BOYHOOD. 


BY 


J.  MACDONALD  OXLEY. 


PHILADELPHIA : 

lMerican  baptist  publication  societt. 

1420  Chestnat  Street 


261466 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congntu,  in  the  year  1889,  \>j  the 

AMERICAN  BAPTIST  PUBLICATION  SOCIETY, 
III  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


CONTENTS. 

PAoa 
CHArTER  I. 
Ikrt  18  Tntroduckp, 6 

CHAPTER  II. 

^IREMAM   OR  SOLDIKR, U 

CHAPTER  III. 

fo.  6  Fort  Strkkt, 17 

CHAPTj^IU  iV. 
Ikf  to  the  Country, 21 

CHAPTER  V. 
'iiK  liiDE  IK  TiiK  Coach, 28 

CHAPTER  VI. 
T  (irandfather's, 87 

CHAPTER  VII. 

iJotNTRY   EXPERIENCKS, 44 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
'emi'tation  and  Triumph, 64 

CHAPTER  IX. 
jOst  axd  Found, 63 

CHAPTER  X. 

(ert  goes  to  School, 77 

CHAPTER  XI. 

Jciiooi.  Life  at  Mr.  Garrison's, 88 

CHAPTER  XII. 
Question  of  Influence, 102 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
Jekt  at  Home, 112 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

iN  Honorable  Scar, 122 

CHAPTER  XV. 

Change  of  School, •       .       .183 

8 


It 


4  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
ToK  First  Dats  at  Dr.  Johnston's,  ...       145 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
The  H018TINO, 156 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

School  Experiknce,         .......       167 

0           CHAPTER  XIX. 
Victory  and  Defeat, 178  1 

CHAPTER  XX. 
A  Narpcw^  Escape, 193 

CHAPTER  XXL 

Learning  to  Swim, 206 

CHAPTER  XXIL 
How  Hoisting  was  Ab(/Lisued, 215 

CHAPTER  XXIIL 
Prize  Winning  and  Losing, 226 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 
A  Chapter  on  Ponies, 24C  | 

CHAPTER  XXV. 
About  Two  Kinds  of  Ponies, 250 

CHAPTER  XXVL 
Victory  Won  From  Defeat, 260 

CHAPTER  XXVIL 
About  Literature  and  Law, 274 

CHAPTER  XXVIIL 
Well  done,  Boys, 287 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 
The  Valley  of  the  Shadow, 300 

CHAPTER  XXX. 
Home  Mi^icionary  Work, 310 

CHAPTER  XXXL 
Not  Dead,  but  Translated, 820 

CHAPTER  XXXIL 
Boys  no  IjONGER, 333  J 


BERT  LLOYD'S  BOYHOOD. 


CHAPTER  I. 


BERT  IS  INTRODUCED. 

F  Cutlibert  Llovd  had  been  born  in  the  time  of  our 
great  grandfathers,  instead  of  a  little  later  than 
he  first  half  of  the  present  century,  the  gossips  would 
^suredly  have  declared  that  the  good  fairies  had  had 

all  their  own  way  at  his  birth. 

To  begin  with,  he  was  a  particularly  fine  handsome 
)aby ;  for  did  not  all  tiie  friends  of  the  family  say  so  ? 
[n  tlie  second  place,  he  was  an  only  son,  which  meant 
[hat  lie  had  no  big  brothers  to  bully  him.  Next,  liis 
)irthplace  was  the  stirring  seaport  of  Halifax,  where 

sturdy,  energetic  boy,  such  as  Cuthbert  certainly  gave 

food  promise  of  l>eing,  need  never  lack  for  fun  or 

idventure.     Finally,  he  had  plenty  of  relations  in  the 

)untry  to  whom  he  might  go  in  the  summer  time  to 

jurn  the  secrete  and  delights  of  country  life. 

Now,  when  to  all  these  advantages  are  added  two 

nd  but  sensible  parents  in  comfortable  circumstances, 
\\\  elder  sister  who  loved  little  Cuthbert  with  the  whole 
treugth  of  her  warm  unselfish  heart,  and  a  pleasant 

6 


BERT  LLOYD'S    BOYHOOD. 


home  in  the  best  part  of  the  city,  they  surely  make  us 
as  fiue  a  list  of  blessings  as  the  most  benevolent  fairy 
godmother  could  reasonably  have  been  expected  to 
bestow. 

And  yet  there  was  nothing  about  Master  Cuthbcrt's 
early  conduct  to  indicate  that  he  properly  appreciated 
his  good  fortune.  He  was  not  half  as  well-beliaved  a 
baby,  for  instance,  as  red-headed  little  Patsey  Shea, 
who,  a  few  days  after  his  first  appearance,  brought 
another  hungry  mouth  to  the  already  over-populated 
cottage  of  the  milkwoman  down  in  Hardhands's  lane. 
As  he  grew  older,  it  needed  more  whippings  than  the 
sum  total  of  his  own  chubby  fingers  and  toes  to  instill 
into  him  a  proper  understanding  of  parental  authority. 
Sometimes  his  mother,  who  was  a  slight  small  woman, 
stronger  of  mind  than  of  body,  would  feel  downright 
discouraged  about  her  vigorous,  willful  boy,  and  \vond<.'r, 
half-despairingly,  if  she  were  really  equal  to  the  task 
of  bringing  him  up  in  the  way  he  should  go. 

Cuthbert  was  in  many  respects  an  odd  mixture. 
His  mother  often  said  that  he  seemed  more  like  two 
boys  of  opposite  natures  rolled  into  one,  than  just  oue 
ordinary  boy.  When  quite  a  little  chap,  he  would  at 
one  time  be  as  full  of  noise,  action,  and  enterprise  as 
the  captain  of  an  ocean  steamer  in  a  gale,  and  at 
another  time  be  as  sedate,  thoughtful,  and  absent- 
minded  as  the  ancient  philosopher  who  made  himself 
famous  by  walking  into  a  well  in  broad  daylight. 

Cuthbert,  in  fact,  at  the  age  of  three,  attracted  atteu- 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


m  to  himself  in  a.  somewhat  similar  way.  His 
iothcr  had  taken  him  with  her  in  making  some  calls, 
1(1  at  Mrs.  Allen'S;  in  one  of  his  thoughtful  moods, 
rith  his  hands  clasped  behind  him,  he  went  wandering 
Y  unobserved.  Presently  he  startled  the  whole  house- 
)ld  by  tumbling  from  the  top  to  the  bottom  of  the 
itchen  stairs,  having  calmly  walked  over  the  edge  in 
absorbed  study  of  his  surroundings. 
The  other  side  of  his  nature  was  brilliantly  illus- 
ited  a  year  later.  Being  invited  to  spend  the  day 
rith  a  playmate  of  his  own  age,  he  built  a  big  nre 
rith  newsi)apers  in  the  bath  room,  turned  on  all  the 
ips,  pretending  that  they  were  the  hydrants,  and  then 
m  through  the  hall,  banging  a  dustpan  and  shouting 
fire  "  at  the  top  of  his  voice. 

"  He  is  such  a  perfect  ^  pickle,'  I  hardly  know  what 
do  with  him,  "Robert,"  said   Mrs.  Lloyd  to  her 
nisband,  with  a  big  sigh,  one  evening  at  dinner. 

"  Don't  worry,  my  dear,  don't  worry.    He  has  more 
ban  the  usual  amount  of  animal  spirits,  that  is  all. 
leep  a  firm  hand  on  him  and  he'll  come  out  all  right," 
uiswered  Mr.  Lloyd,  cheeringly. 

"  It's  easy  enough  to  say,  *  Keep  a  firm  hand  on  him,' 
lobert,  but  my  hand  gets  pretty  tired  sometimes,  I 
?an  assure  you.  I  just  wish  you'd  stay  at  home  for  a 
week  and  look  after  Bert,  while  I  go  to  the  office  in 
your  place.  You'd  get  a  better  idea  of  what  your  son 
is  like  than  you  can  by  seeing  him  for  a  little  while  in 
the  morning  and  evening." 


BERT  LLOYD'S   BOYHOOD. 


"  Thank  you,  Kate,  I've  no  doubt  you  might  manage 
to  do  my  work  at  the  office,  and  that  my  clients  would 
think  your  advice  very  good ;  but  I'm  no  less  sure 
that  I  would  be  a  dismal  failure  in  doing  your  work 
at  home,"  responded  Mr.  Lloyd,  with  a  smile,  adding, 
more  seriously:  "Anyway,  I  have  too  much  faith  in 
your  ability  to  make  the  best  of  Bert  to  think  of 
spoiling  your  good  work  by  clumsy  interference." 

"  It's  a  great  comfort  to  have  you  put  so  much  faitli 
in  me,"  said  Mrs.  Lloyd,  with  a  grateful  look,  "  fur 
it's  more  than  Bert  does  sometimes.  Why,  he  told  me 
only  this  morning  that  he  thought  I  wasn't  half  as 
good  to  him  as  Frankie  Clayton's  mother  is  to  him, 
just  because  I  wouldn't  let  him  have  the  garden  hose 
to  play  fireman  with." 

"Just  wait  until  he's  fifteen,  my  dear,"  returned 
Mr.  Lloyd,  "and  if  he  doesn't  tLink  then  that  lie 
has  one  of  the  best  mothers  in  the  world,  why — I'll 
never  again  venture  to  prophesy,  that's  all.  And  here 
comes  my  little  man  to  answer  for  himself,"  as  the 
door  opened  suddenly  and  Bert  burst  in,  making 
straight  for  his  father.  "  Ha !  ha !  my  boy,  so  your 
mother  says  you're  a  perfect  pickle.  Well,  if  you're 
only  pickled  in  a  way  that  will  save  you  from  spoiling, 
I  shall  be  satisfied,  and  I  think  your  mother  may  be, 
too." 

Mrs.  Lloyd  laughed  heartily  at  the  unexpected  turn 
thus  given  to  her  c(^mplaint;  and  Bert,  seeing  both  his 
parents  in  such  good  humor,  added  a  beaming  face  on 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


is  own  account,  although,  of  course,  without  having 
le  .slightest  idea  as  to  the  cause  of  their  merriment. 

Climbing  up  on  his  father's  knee,  Bert  pressed  a 
lump  cheek  lovingly  against  tlie  lawyer's  brown 
frhiskers  and  looked,  what  indeed  he  was,  the  picture 
f  happy  content. 

"Wliat  sort  of  a  man  are  you  going  to  make,  Bert?" 
Bked  Mr.  Lloyd,  quizzingly,  the  previous  conversation 
}intj  still  in  his  mind. 

"  I'm  going  to  be  a  fireman,"  replied  Bert,  promptly ; 

and  Frankie's  going  to  be  one,  too." 

"  And  why  do  you  want  to  be  a  fireman,  Bert  ?  " 

"  Oh,  because  they  wear  such  grand  clothes  and  can 
lake  such  a  noise  without  anybody  telling  them  to 
^hut  up,"  answered  Bert,  w  hose  knowledge  of  firemen 
ivas  based  upon  a  torchlight  procession  of  them  he 
lad  seen  one  night,  and  their  management  of  a  fire 
^hat  had  not  long  before  taken  place  in  the  near  neigh- 
)orhood,  and  of  which  he  was  a  breathless  spectator. 

Mr.  Lloyd  could  not  resist  laughing  at  his  son's 
laive  reply,  but  there  was  no  ridicule  in  his  laugh, 
IS  Bert  saw  clearly  enough,  and  he  was  encouraged  to 
idd: 

"  Oh,  father,  please  let  me  be  a  fireman,  won't  you?" 

"  We'll  see  about  it,  Bert.  If  we  can't  find  anything 
)etter  for  you  to  do  than  being  a  fireman,  why  we'll 
try  to  make  a  good  fireman  of  you,  that's  all.  But 
never  mind  about  that  now  ;  tell  me  what  was  the  best 
fun  you  had  to-day."     Thus  invited,  Bert  proceeded 


:!i|l 


r-i 


10 


BERT  LLOYD  8   BOYHOOD. 


I'll 


to  tell  after  his  own  fashion  the  doings  of  the  day,  with 
his  father  and  mother  an  attentive  audience. 

It  was  their  policy  to  always  manifest  a  deep  interest 
in  everything  Bert  had  to  tell,  and  in  this  way  thcv 
made  him  understand  better  j)erhaps  than  they  could 
otherwise  have  done  how  thoroughly  they  symimthized 
with  him  in  both  the  joys  and  sorrows  of  his  little 
life.  They  were  determined  that  the  most  complete 
confidence  should  be  established  between  them  and 
their  only  boy  at  the  start,  and  Bert  never  appeared 
to  such  advantage  as  when,  with  eyes  flashing  and 
graphic  gestures,  he  would  tell  about  something  won- 
derful in  his  eyes  that  had  happened  to  him  that 
afternoon. 

By  the  time  Bert  had  exhausted  his  budget  and 
been  rewarded  with  a  lump  of  white  sugar,  the  nurse 
appeared  with  the  summons  to  bed,  and  after  some 
slight  demur  he  went  off  in  good  humor,  his  father 
saying,  as  the  door  closed  upon  him : 

"  There's  not  a  better  youngster  of  his  age  in  Hali- 
fax, Kate,  even  if  he  hasn't  at  present  any  higher 
ambition  than  to  be  a  fireman." 


iiiii 


CHAPTER  II. 


FIREMAN  OR  SOLDIER. 


ALIFAX  has  already  been  mentioned  as  a  par- 
ticularly pleasant  place  for  a  boy  to  be  born  in ; 
id  so  indeed  it  is.      Every   schoolboy   knows,  or 
ij.'-lit  to  know,  that  it  is  the  capital  of  Acadia,  one 
ihe    Maritime    Provinces   of    the   Dominion    of 
Canada.     It  has  a  great  many  advantages,  some  of 
rliicii  are  not  shared  by  any  other  city  on  the  conti- 
lent.      Situated  right  on  the  sea  coast,  it  boasts  a 
laguifieent  harbor,  in  which  all  the  war  vessels  of  the 
^orld,  from  the  mijjjhtiest  iron  clad  to  the  tiniest  tor- 
}do  boat,  might  lie  at  anchor.     Beyond  the  harbor, 
}parated  from  it  by  only  a  short  strait,  well-named 
he  "Narrows,"  is  an  immense  basin  that  seems  just 
Icsigned  for  yachting  and  excursions  ;   while  brauch- 
ig  out  from  the  harbor  in  different  directions  are  two 
[ovely  fiords,  one  called  the  Eastern  Passage,  leading 
)ut  to  the  ocean  again,  and  the  other  running  away  up 
ito  the  laud,  so  that  there  is  no  lack  of  salt  water 
rora  which  cool  breezes  may  blow  on  the  torrid  days. 
The  city  itself  is   built   upon   the   peninsula  that 
livides  the   harbor   from   the   northwest   arm,    and 
)eginnlng  about  Iialf  a  mile  fr6m  the  point  of  the 
)omu^5ula,  runs  northward  almost  to  the  Narrows,  and 

11 


12 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


!i!i 


sprrads  out  westward  until  its  farthest  edge  touches 
the  shore  of  the  arm.  The  "  Point "  has  been  wisely 
set  aside  for  a  public  park,  and  except  where  a  fort  or 
two,  built  to  command  the  entrance  to  the  harbor, 
intrudes  upon  it,  the  forest  of  spruce  and  fir  with  lU 
labyrinth  of  roads  and  paths  and  frequent  glades  of 
soft  waving  grass,  extends  from  shore  to  shore,  mak- 
ing a  wilderness  that  a  boy's  imagination  may  easily 
people  with  Indians  brandishing  tomahawk  and  ecal|)- 
ing  knife,  or  bears  and  wolves  seeking  whom  they 
may  devour. 

Halifax  being  the  chief  military  and  naval  station 
for  the  British  Coltjnies  in  America,  its  forts  and  bar- 
racks are  filled  with  red-coated  infantry  or  blue-coated 
^rtillery  the  whole  year  round.  All  summer  long 
great  iron  clads  bring  their  imposing  bulks  to  anchor 
off  the  Dockyard,  and  Jack  Tars  in  foolish,  merry, 
and,  alas !  too  often  vicious  companies,  swagger 
through  the  streets  in  noisy  enjoyment  of  their  day  on 
shore. 

On  either  side  of  the  harbor,  on  the  little  island 
which  rests  like  an  emerald  brooch  upon  its  bosom, 
and  high  above  the  city  on  the  crown  of  the  hill  up 
which  it  wearily  climbs,  street  beyond  street,  stsiiid 
frowning  fortresses  with  mighty  guns  thrusting  their 
black  muzzles  through  the  granite  embrasures.  In 
fact,  the  whole  place  is  pervaded  by  the  influences  of 
military  life ;  and  Cuthbert,  whose  home  overlooked  a 
disused  fort,  now  serving  the  rather  ignoble  purpose 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


m 


a  dwelling-place  for  married  soldiers,  was  at  first 
llv  i)or8ua<lcd  in  his  mind  that  the  desire  of  his  life 
to  be  a  soldier ;  and  it  was  not  until  he  went  to  a 
itarv  review,  and  realized  that  the  soldiers  had  to 
md  up  awfully  stiff  and  straight,  and  dare  not  open 
[eir  mouths  for  the  world,  that  he  dismissed  the  idea 
being  a  soldier,  and  adopted  that  of  being  a  fire- 
in. 

i''et  there  were  times  when  he  rather  regretted  his 
'ision,  and  inclined  to  waver  in  his  allegiance* 
(is  going  to  the  Sunday-school  with  his  sister  had 
imetliing  to  do  with  this.  A  favorite  hymn  with  the 
^pcrintcndent — who,    by   the    way,  was    a    retired 

icer — was — 

"Onward,  Christian  soldiers." 

The  bright  stirring  tune,  and  the  tremendous  vigor 

ith  whi(!h  the  scholars  sang  it,  quite  took  Cuthbert^s 

irt.    He  listened  eagerly,  but  the  only  words  he 

jlit  were  the  first,  which  they  repeated  so  often : 

"  Onward,  Christian  soldiers." 

Walking  home  with  his  sister,  they  met  a  small  de- 
vilment of  soldiers,  looking  very  fine  in  their  Sun- 
ly  uniforms : 

"Are  those  Christian  soldiers,  Mary?"  he  asked, 
)king  eagerly  up  into  her  face. 
"  Perhaps  so,  Bert,  I  don't  know, "  Mary  replied. 
[What  makes  you  ask  ?  " 
"  Because  we  were  singing  about  Christian  soldiers, 
jren't  we  ?"  answered  Bert. 


igi 


14 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


"  Oh  !  is  that  what  you  mean,  Bert  ?  They  may  bo, 
for  all  I  know.    Would  you  like  to  be  a  Christiaa^ 
soldier?" 

"  Yes ,"  doubtfully  ;  then,  brightening  up—"  but 
couldn't  I  be  a  Christian  fireman,  too  ?  " 

"  Of  course  you  could,  Bert,  but  I'd  much  ratlier 
see  you  a  Christian  soldier.  Mr.  Hamilton  is  a  Chris- 
tian soldier,  you  know." 

This  reply  of  his  sister's  set  Bert's  little  brain  at 
work.  Mr.  Hamilton,  the  superintendent  of  the  Sun- 
day-school, was  a  tall,  erect,  handsome  man,  with  fine 
gray  hair  and  whiskers,  altogether  an  impressive 
gentleman  ;  yet  he  had  a  most  winning  manner,  and 
Bert  was  won  to  him  at  once  when  he  was  welcomed 
by  him  warmly  to  the  school.  Bert  could  not  Imag- 
ine anything  grander  than  to  be  a  Christian  soldier,  if 
it  meant  being  like  Mr.  Hamilton.  Still  the  fireman 
notion  had  too  many  attractions  to  be  lightly  thrown 
aside,  and  consequently  for  some  time  to  come  he 
could  hardly  be  said  to  know  his  own  mind  as  to  his 
future. 

The  presence  of  the  military  in  Halifax  was  far 
from  being  an  unmixed  good.  Of  course,  it  helped 
business,  gave  employment  to  many  hands,  imparted 
peculiar  life  and  color  to  society,  and  added  many  ex- 
cellent citizens  to  the  population.  At  the  same  time 
it  had  very  marked  drawbacks.  There  was  always  a 
great  deal  of  drunkenness  and  other  dissipation  among  | 
the  soldiers  and  sailors.     The  officers  were  not  the 


BERT    LLOYD  S    BOYHOOD. 


15 


ost  improvinjT  of  companions  and  models  for  the 
ling  men  of  the  place,  and  in  other  ways  the  city 
s  tlie  worse  for  their  presence. 
Mrs.  Lloyd  presently  found  the  soldiers  a  source  of 
iii^er  to  her  boy.     Just  around  the  corner  at  the 
trance  to  the  old  fort,  already   mentioned,  was  a 
ijudhouse,  and  here  some  half-dozen  soldiers  were 
tioncd  day  and  night.     They  were  usually  jolly 
Hows,  who  were  glad  to  get  hold  of  little  boys  to  play 
th  and  thereby  help  to  while  away  the  time  in  their 
onotonous  life.     Cuthbert  soon  discovered  the  attrac- 
;ons  of  this  guardhouse  and,  in  spite  of  commands  to  the 
nti'ary,  Avhich  he  seemed  unable  to  remember,  wan- 
rod  off  thither  very  often.     All  the  other  little  boys 
the  neighborhood  went  there  whenever  they  liked, 
d  he  could  not  understand  why  he  should  not  do  so 
He  did  not  really  mean  to  defy  his  parents.    He 


)(). 


ps  too  young  for  that,  being  only  six  years  old.     But 

10  force  of  the  example  of  his  playmates  seemed 

rongor  than  the  known  wishes  of  his  parents,  and  so 

disobeyed  them  again  and  again. 

Mrs.  Lloyd  might,  of  course,  have  carried  her  point 

sluitting  Bert  up  in  the  yard  and  not  allowing  him 

it  at  all  except  in  charge  of  somebody.    But  that  was 

pocisely  what  she  did  not  wish  to  do.     She  knew  well 

longh  that  her  son  could  not  have  a  locked-up  world 

live  in.    He  must  learn  to  live  in  this  world,  full 

temptations  as  it  is,  and  so  her  idea  was  not  so  much 

put  hira  out  of  the  way  of  temptation,  as  to  teach 


16 


BEKT  LLOYD'S   BOYHOOD. 


him  how  to  withstand  it.  Consequently,  she  was  some. 
wliat  at  a  loss  just  what  to  do  in  the  matter  of  tlie 
guardhouse,  when  a  letter  that  came  from  tlie  country 
offered  a  very  timely  and  acceptable  solution  of  the 
difficulty. 


!||i 


CHAPTER  III. 


NO.   6   FORT  STREET. 


I 


I: 


KJTIIHERT  LLOYD'S  home  was  a  happy  one  in 
every  way.  The  house  was  situated  that  the 
ishine  nii<;lit  have  free  phiy  upon  it  all  day,  j)ouriDg 
at  the  rear  windows  in  tlie  mornin«r  and  Hooding 
front  ones  with  rieh  and  rare  sj)lendor  at  evening, 
[qnic't  little  street  passed  by  the  door,  the  gardens 
)osite  being  filled  with  noble  trees  that  east  a  grateful 
ide  during  the  dog  days.  At  the  rear  of  the  house 
the  old  fort,  its  turfed  casemates  sloping  down  to 
iiidy  beach,  from  whose  centre  a  stone  wharf  pro- 
jjtt'd  out  into  the  plashing  water.  Looking  over  the 
Muutes,  one  could  see  clear  out  to  the  lighthouse 
[ich  kept  watch  at  the  entrance  to  the  harbor,  and 
Id  follow  the  ships  as  they  rose  slowly  on  the  hon- 
or sped  away  with  favoring  breeze. 

riudit  i)leasant  house  to  live  in  was  No.  5  Fort 
jct,  and  riglit  pleasant  were  the  people  who  lived 
[it.     Cuthbert  certainly  had  no  doubt  upon  either 
hit,  and  who  had  a  better  opportunity  of  forming  an 
Inion?     Mr.  Lloyd,  the  head  of  the  household,  was 
the  head  of  one  of  the  leading  legal  firms  in  Hali- 
His  son,  and  perhaps  his  wife  and  daughter, 
thought  him  the  finest-looking  man  in  the  city. 

B  •  17 


18 


BERT  LLOYD'S   BOYHOOD. 


>Wr 


That  was,  no  doubt,  an  extravagant  estimate,  yet  it  Mas 
not  without  excuse;  for  tall,  erect,  and  stalwart,  with 
regular  features,  large  brown  eyes  that  looked  strai^lit 
at  you,  fine  whiskers  and  moustache,  and  a  kindly 
cordial  expression,  Mr.  Lloyd  made  a  very  good  appear- 
ance in  the  world.  Especially  did  he,  since  he  never 
forgot  the  neatness  and  good  taste  in  dress  of  liis 
bachelor  days,  as  so  many  married  men  are  apt  to  do, 

Cuthbert's  mother  was  of  quite  a  different  type, 
Her  husband  used  to  joke  her  about  her  being  good 
for  a  standard  of  measurement  because  she  stood  jii,-t 
five  feet  in  heigb.t,  and  weighed  precisely  one  hundrcJ 
pounds.  Bert,  one  day,  seemed  to  reali:  :  what  a 
mite  of  a  woman  she  was ;  for,  after  looking  her  all 
over,  he  said,  very  gravely : 

"  What  a  little  mother  you  are  !  I  will  soon  be  a' 
big  as  you,  won't  I  ?  " 

Brown  of  hair  and  eyes,  like  Mr.  Lloyd,  her  face 
was  a  rare  combination  of  sweetness  and  strenuth. 
Bert  thought  it  lovelier  than  any  angel's  he  had  ever 
seen  in  a  picture.  Indeed,  there  was  much  of  the 
ano-elic  in  his  mother's  nature.  She  had  marvcloii; 
control  over  her  feelings,  and  never  by  any  chance 
gave  way  to  temper  openly,  so  that  in  all  his  yoiin:.' 
life  her  boy  had  no  remembrance  of  receiving  fioni 
her  a  harsh  word,  or  a  hasty,  angry  blow.  Not  thai 
she  was  weak  or  indulgent.  On  the  contrary,  not 
only  Bert,  but  Bei-t's  playmates,  and  some  of  their 
mothers,  too,  thought  her  quite  too  strict  at  times,  foi 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


n 


was  a  firm  believer  in  discipline,  and  Master  Bert 

;  taught  to  abide  by  rules  from  the  outset. 

riie  tiiird  niomber  of  the  household  was  the  only 

igliter,  Mary,  a  tall  gracx^ful  girl,  who  had  inherited 

my   of    her   fatlier's   qualities   together    with    her 

)tlier's  sweetness.      In   Bert's  eyes   she   was   just 

iply  perfect.     She  was  twice  as  old  as  he  when  he 

six  years  to  his  credit,  and  tiie  difference  in  age 

ide  her  seem  like  a  second  mother  to  him,  except 

it  he  felt  free  to  take  more  liberities  with  her  than 

h  his  mother.     But  she  did  not  mind  this  much,  for 

^^a^  passion:n^oly  fond  of  her  little  brother,  and 

inclined  to  spoil  him,  if  anything. 

ls  for  Bert  himself — well,  he  was  just  a  stout,  sturdy, 

irty,   boy,    with   notliing  very  remarkable    about 

1,  unless  perhaps  it  was  his  superabundant  health 

spirits.  Nobody,  unless  it  was  that  most  partial 
Igo,  Mary,  thought  him  handsome,  but  everybody 
nitted  that  he  was  good  looking  in  ever^"  sense  of 

term.  He  promised  to  be  neither  tall,  like  his 
her.  nor  short,  like  his  mother;  but  of  a  handy,  scr- 
['iiblc  medium  height,  with  plenty  of  strength  and 
Inrance  in  his  tough  little  frame.  Not  onlv  were 
th  eyes  and  hair  brown,  as  might  be  expected,  but 

face,  too,  as  might  also  be  expected,  seeing  that  no 

mds  were  placed  upon  his  being  out  of  doors,  so 

fg  as  the  day  was  fine,  and  he  himself  was  keeping 

of  mischief. 

''ather,  mother,  daughter,  and  son,  these  four  made 


20 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


-III! 


Ill    'i 


up  a  very  aifectionate  and  happy  family,  pulling  well 
together ;  and  so  far  as  the  three  older  ones  were  con- 
cerned, with  their  faces  and  hearts  set  toward  Jerusa- 
lem, and  of  one  mind  as  to  taking  Bert  along  witli 
them.  Mr.  Lloyd  and  his  wife  were  thoroughly  m 
accord  with  Dr.  Austin  Phelps  as  to  this  :  That  the 
children  of  Christians  should  be  Christian  from  the 
cradle.  They  accordingly  saw  no  reason  why  the  only 
son  that  God  had  given  them  should  ever  go  out  into 
sin,  and  then  be  brought  back  from  a  far-off  land, 
Surely,  if  they  did  their  duty,  he  need  never  stray  far 
away.  That  was  the  way  they  reasoned  ;  and  although, 
of  course,  little  Bert  knew  nothing  about  it,  that  Mai 
the  plan  upon  which  they  sought  to  bring  him  up, 
The  task  was  not  altogether  an  easy  one,  as  succeeding 
chaptei's  of  Bert's  history  will  make  plain.  But  the 
plan  was  adhered  to  and  the  result  justified  its  wisdom. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


OFF    TO   THE    COUNTRY. 


I  HE  letter  which  came  in  such  good  time  to  relieve 
Mrs.  Lloyd  from  the  difficulty  about  Bert's  fond- 
3s  for  the  guardroom,  and  its  hurtful  influences,  was 
>ni  her  father,  and  contained  an  invitation  so  press- 
as  to  be  little  short  of  a  demand,  for  her  to  pay 
a  long  visit  at  the  old  homestead,  bringing  Bert 
til  her. 

^Irs.  Lloyd  very  readily  and  gladly  accepted  the 

citation.     Midsummer  was  near  at  hand.     She  had 

visited  her  old  home  for  some  years.     Her  father 

mother  were  aging    fast ;   and  then,   naturally 

)ugh,  she  was  eager  to  show  them  what  a  fine  boy 

was  growing  to  be. 

lien  Bert  heard  of  it,  he  showed  the  utmost  de- 
it.  Three  years  before  he  had  spent  a  summer  at 
indfather's,  but  then,  of  course,  he  was  too  young  to 
more  than  be  impressed  by  the  novelty  of  his 
roil  11(1  ings.  The  huge  oxen,  the  noisy  pigs,  the 
ritcd  horses,  even  the  clumsy  little  calves,  be- 
ld(M-e(l,  if  tlicv  did  not  alarm  him.  But  now  he  felt 
enough  to  enjoy  them  all;  and  the  very  idea  of 
ii,u'  back  to  them  filled  him  with  joy,  to  which  lie 
re  expression  after  his  own  boisterous  fashion. 

21 


(11 


22 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


■' 


"  Mother,  are  we  going  to  grandfather's  to-morrow  ? '' 
he  would  eagerly  ask,  day  after  day,  his  little  heart 
throbbing  with  impatience. 

"We're  going  soon,   Bert   dear.      You   must  be 
patient,  you  know,"  his  mother  would  gently  reply 
and  the  little  fellow  would  make  a  very  heroic  effon 
to  control  himself. 

At  length  the  day  of  departure  arrived.     Too  full 
of  importance  and  great  expectations  to  manifest  a 
proper  amount  of  sorrow  at  leaving  his  father  ami 
sister,  who  felt  very  reluctant,  indeed,  to  part  witt 
him,  Master  Bert  took  his  place  in  the  cab  and  drovi 
up  to  the  railway  station.     Hardly  had  he  entered  i* 
than  he  made  a  dash  for  the  train,  climbed  up  on  tht 
rear  platform  with  the  agility  of  a  monkey,  much  t 
the  amusement  of  the  conductor,  whose  proffer  oi 
assistance  he  entirely  ignored ;  and  when  Mr.  IjIovc  | 
entered  the  car,  a  minute  later,  he  found  his  enter 
prising  son  seated  comfortably  upon  a  central  scat^ 
and  evidently  quite  ready  for  the  train  to  start. 

"  Would  you  go  away  without  saying  good-bye  t( ; 
your  father  and  to  Mary  ? "  asked  Mr.  Lloyd,  in  a| 
deeply  reproachful  tone. 

Bert  blushed  violently  on  being  thus  reminded  ofl 
his  apparent  selfishness,  and,  with  the  threat  of  a  teal 
in  his  eye,  was  about  to  make  some  sort  of  a  defensei 
when  his  father  put  him  all  right  again  by  sayingj 
brightly: 

"Never  mind,  my  boy.     It  isn't  every  day  you 


■'I'll 

!  J 


BERT   LLOYD  S    BOYHOOD. 


23 


loiT  on  a  luindred-and-fifty-miles  journey.  Mary  and 
[I  w  ill  forgive  you  for  forgetting  us  this  time,  won't  we, 
[Mary  ?  " 

The  lunch  basket,  the  wra})S,  and  their  other  belong- 

lings  were  placed  on  the  seat,  the  engine  whistled,  "  all 

al)oar(l,"  the  bell  rang,  the  conductor  shouted,  affec- 

ti(jiiate  farewells  were  hastily  exchanged,  and  presently 

the  train  rolled  noisily  out  of  the  dark  station  into  the 

bright  sunshine ;  and  Bert,  leaning  from  the  window, 

caught  a  last  glimpse  of  his  father  and  sister  as  they 

Btuod  waving  the  handkerchiefs  which  one  of  them,  at 

|l('iL«t,  could  not  refrain  from  putting  to  anotlier  use,  as 

Itlie  last  car  swept  round  the  turn  and  vanished. 

But  Bert  was  in  no  mood  for  tears.  In  fact,  he 
i  never  felt  less  like  anything  of  the  kind.  He  felt 
mucii  more  disposed  to  shout  aloud  for  very  joy,  and 
probably  would  have  done  so,  but  for  the  restraining 
influence  exercised  by  the  presence  of  the  other  pas- 
sengers, of  whom  there  were  a  good  many  in  the  car. 
As  it  was,  he  gave  vent  to  his  excited  feelings  by  being 
as  restless  as  a  mosquito,  and  asking  his  mother  as 
many  questions  as  his  active  brain  could  invent. 

"  You'll  be  tired  out  by  mid-day,  Bert,  if  you  go 
on  at  this  rate,  "  said  his  mother,  in  gentle  warning. 

"  Oh,  no,  I  won't,  mother ;  I  won't  get  tired.  See  ! 
What's  that  funny  big  thing  with  the  long  legs  in  that 
field?" 

^'  That's  a  frame  for  a  hay  stack,  I  think.  You'll 
s«^e  plenty  of  tliose  at  grandfather^s. " 


V 


|[| 


i  ::;^^i^i' 


24 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


)  ill 


I      I'i 


"  And  what's  that  queer  thing  with  arms  sticking 
out  from  tliat  building  ?  " 

"  That's  a  wind  mill.  When  the  wind  blows  hard 
those  arms  go  round,  and  turn  machinery  inside  the 
barn." 

"  And  has  grandpapa  got  a  wind  mill,  mother  ?" 

"  Yes ;  he  has  one  on  his  big  barn. " 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  glad  ;  I  can  watch  it  going  round,  and 
stand  quite  close,  can't  I?" 

"  Yes,  but  take  care  not  to  go  too  close  to  the  ma- 
chinery.    It  might  hurt  you  very  much,  you  know." 

And  so  it  went  on  all  through  the  morning.  Mrs. 
Lloyd  would  have  liked  very  much  to  read  a  little  in 
an  interesting  book  she  had  brought  with  her,  but 
what  with  watching  Bert's  restless  movements,  and 
answering  his  incessant  questions,  there  seemed  sliglit 
hope  of  her  rncceeding  in  this  until,  after  they  had 
been  a  '•'^uple  of  hours  on  their  journey,  a  good- 
natured  gentleman  on  the  opposite  seat,  who  had  fin- 
ished his  paper,  and  had  nothing  particular  to  do,  took 
in  the  situation  and  came  to  her  relief. 

"  Won't  you  come  over  and  keep  me  company  for 
a  while,  my  little  man  ?  "  he  said,  pleasantly,  leaning 
across  the  aisle.  "I  will  try  and  answer  all  your 
questions  for  you. " 

Bf^rt  looked  curiously  at  the  speaker,  and  then,  the 
t'cn  proving  satisfactory^,  inquiringly  at  his 
.  She  nodded  her  assent,  so  forthwith  he  ran 
ais  new  friend,  and  climbed  up  beside  him. 


:V>t 


BERT  LLOYD'S   BOYHOOD. 


25 


was  given  the  corner  next  the  window,  and  while 
lis  bright  eyes  took  in  everything  as  the  train  sped  on, 
lis  tongue  wagged  no  less  swiftly  as  question  followed 
lucstion  in  quick  succession.  Mrs.  Lloyd,  thoroughly 
It  ease  now,  returned  to  her  book  with  a  grateful  sigh 
]{  relief,  and  an  hour  slipped  away,  at  the  end  of 
rliirh  Bert's  eyes  grew  heavy  with  sleep.  He  no 
)nger  was  interested  in  the  scenery;  and  at  last,  after 

gallant  struggle,  his  curly  head  fell  over  on  the 

ishion,  and  he  went  into  a  deep  sleep,  from  wliich  he 

lid  not  waken  until  at  mid-day  the  train  drew  up  at 

^lie  station,  beyond  which  they  could  not  go  by  rail. 

"  Come,  Bert,  wake  up  !  "We  must  get  out  here, " 
feried  his  mother,  shaking  him  vigorously. 

Rubbing  his  eyes  hard,  yawning  as  though  he 
rould  put  his  jaws  out  of  joint,  and  feeling  very  un- 
)mfortable  generally,  Bert  nevertheless  managed  to 
)ull  himself  together  sufficiently  to  thank  the  gentle- 
lan  who  had  been  so  kind  to  him  before  he  followed 
lis  mother  out  of  the  car. 

They  had  dinner  at  Thurso,  and  by  the  time  it  was 
ready  Bert  was  ready  too.  He  had  been  altogether 
30  nmeh  excited  at  breakfast  time  to  eat  much  then, 
)ut  he  made  up  for  it  now.  Mrs.  Lloyd  laughed  as 
le  asked  again  and  again  for  more,  but  she  did  not 
iheck  him.  Slie  knew  very  well  that  the  contented 
frame  of  mind  produced  by  a  good  dinner  was  just 
th(i  right  thing  with  which  to  enter  upon  the  second 
3art  of  their  journey.    This  was  to  be  by  coach,  and 


26 


BERT  LLOYD'S   BOYHOOD. 


'ii! 


-il!i!| 


IMii! 


as  even  the  best  of  coaches  is  a  pretty  cramped  sort  of 
an  affair  unless  yon  have  it  all  to  yonrself,  the  quieter 
Bert  was  disposed  to  be  the  better  for  all  concerned. 

"  What  are  we  to  ride  in  now,  mother?"  asked  Beit, 
after  the  vacancy  underneath  h's  blue  blouse  had  been 
sufficiently  filled  to  dispose  him  to  conversation. 

"  In  a  big  red  coach,  dear,  with  six  fine  horses  to 
draw  us, "  answered  Mrs.  Lloyd. 

"  Oh,  mother,  won't  that  be  splendid  ?  And  may  I 
sit  up  with  the  driver?" 

"  Perhaps  you  may,  for  a  little  while,  anyway,  if  he 
will  let  you.  " 

"  Hooray ! "  cried  Bert,  clapping  his  hands  with 
delight ;  "  I'm  sure  the  driver  will  let  me,  if  you'll 
only  ask  him.     You  will,  won't  you,  mother?" 

"  Yes,  I  will,  after  we  get  out  of  the  town.  But 
you  must  wait  until  I  think  it's  the  right  time  to 
ask  liim." 

"  I'll  wait,  mother,  but  don't  you  forget." 

Forget !  Tiiere  was  much  likelihood  of  Mrs.  Llovd 
forgetting  with  this  lively  young  monkey  before  her 
as  a  constant  reminder. 

They  had  just  finislied  dinner,  when,  with  clatter  of 
hoofjj,  rattle  of  springs,  and  crush  of  gravel  under  the 
heavy  wheels,  the  great  Concord  coach  drew  up  before 
the  hotel  door  in  dashiuir  stvle. 

Bert  was  one  of  the  first  to  greet  it.  He  did  not 
even  wait  to  put  on  his  hat,  and  his  mother,  following 
with  it,  found  him  in  the  forefront  of  the  crowd  that 


BEiJT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


27 


lalwnvs  gatliers  about  the  mail  coach  in  a  country 
[town,  gazing  up  at  tlie  driver,  who  sat  in  superb 
diL^iity  upon  his  lofty  seat,  as  though  he  had  never 
[bciicld  so  exalted  a  being  in  his  life  before. 

Tliere  was  something  so  impassive,  so  indifferent  to 
hiis  surroiiiulings,  about  this  big,  bronzed,  black -mous- 
[tnclied,  and  broad-hatted  driver,  that  poor  Bert's 
i heart  sanlc  within  him.  He  felt  perfectly  sure  that 
I /jc  could  never  in  the  world  muster  up  sufficient  courage 
to  bog  for  the  privilege  of  a  seat  beside  so  impressive 
|a  potentate,  and  'le  doubted  if  his  mother  could,  either. 

Among  th'  issengers  Bert  was  glad  to  see  the 
gentleman  who  had  befriended  him  on  the  cars, 
and  when  this  individual,  after  having  the  audacity 
to  hail  the  driver  familiarly  with,  "  Good-morning, 
Jack ;  looks  as  if  we  were  going  to  have  a  pleasant 
trip  down,"  sprang  up  on  the  wheel,  and  thence  to 
tiie  vacant  place  beside  Jack  Davis,  just  as  though  it 
belonged  to  him  of  right,  a  ray  of  hope  stole  into 
Bert's  heart.  If  his  friend  of  the  cars,  whose  name, 
by  the  way,  he  told  Bert,  was  Mr.  Miller,  was  on  such 
good  terms  with  the  driver,  perhaps  he  woidd  ask 
him  to  let  a  little  boy  sit  up  in  front  for  a  while. 

TMking  much  comfort  from  this  thought,  Bert,  at  a 
call  from  his  mother,  who  Mas  already  seated,  climbed 
lip  into  the  coach,  and  being  allowed  the  corner  next 
the  window,  with  head  thrust  forth  as  far  as  Avas  safe, 
he  awaited  eagerly  the  signal  to  start. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE    RIDE  IN  THE  COACH. 

THE  last  passenger  had  taken  his  seat,  the  last 
trunk  been  strapped  on  behind,  and  the  canvjis 
covering  drawn  tightly  over  it,  the  mail  bags  safely 
stowed  away  in  the  capacious  boot ;  and  tlien  big  Jack 
Davis,  gathering  the  reins  of  his  six  impatient  steeds 
skillfully  into  one  hand,  and  grasping  the  long-lashed 
whip  in  tlie  other,  sang  out  to  the  men  who  stood  at 
the  leaders^  heads : 

"  Let  them  go  ! " 

The  men  dropped  the  bridles  and  sprang  aside,  tlie 
long  lash  cracked  like  a  pistol  shot,  the  leaders,  a 
beautiful  pair  of  gray  ponies,  perfectly  matched,  reared, 
curvetted,  pranced  about,  and  then  would  have  dashed 
off  at  a  wild  gallop  had  not  Jack  Davis*  strong  hands, 
aided  by  the  steadiness  of  the  staider  wheelers,  kept 
them  in  check ;  and  soon  brought  down  to  a  spirited 
canter,  they  led  the  way  out  of  the  town. 

Tlie  coach  had  a  heavy  load.  It  could  hold  twelve 
passengers  inside,  and  every  seat  was  occupied  on  top. 
Besides  Mr.  Miller,  who  had  the  coveted  box  seat,  there 
were  two  other  men  perched  upon  the  coach  top,  and 
making  the  best  of  their  uncomfortable  position ;  and 
there  was  an  extra  amount  of  baggage. 
28 


:iiii! 


allllliU 


BERT  LIX)YD's    BOYHOOD. 


29 


"  Plenty  of  work  for  my  horses  to-day,  Mr.  Miller,  " 
ii<l  Jack  Davis,  looking  carefully  over  the  harness- 
ig  to  make  sure  that  every  strap  was  securely  buckled, 
iiul  every  part  in  its  right  place. 

"  Yes,  indeed ;  you'll  need  to  keep  the  brake  on  hard 
roing  <lown  the  hills, "  replied  Mr.  Miller. 

lending  over,  80  that  those  behind  could  not  hear 
liim,  tlio  driver  said,  under  his  breath  : 

'•  Don't  say  anything ;  but,  to  tell  the  truth,  I'm  a 
little  shaky  about  my  brake.  It  is  none  too  strong, 
land  I  won't  go  out  with  it  again  until  it's  fixed;  but  it 
[can't  be  mended  this  side  of  Riverton,  and  I'm  going 
[to  pusli  through  as  best  I  can. " 

"  Well,  if  anything  happens,  just  let  us  know  when 

Ito   jinnp, "  returned   Mr.  Miller,  with   a   reassuring 

eniile,  for  he  felt  no  anxiety,  having  perfect  confidence 

in  Davis'  ability  to  bring  his  coach  safely  to  the  jour- 

fiioy's  end. 

It  was  a  lovely  summer  day,  and  in  the  early  after- 

[iioon  the  coach  bowled  smoothly  along  over  the  well- 

[kept  road,  now   rolling   over  a   wooden  bridge  on 

^vhose  timbers   the  rapid   tramp  of   the  horses'  feet 

jsoiiudod  like  thunder,  climbing  the  slope  on  the  other 

I  hide,  then  rattling  down  into  the  valley,  and  up  the 

loDposite  hill,  almost  at  full  speed,  and  so  on  in  rapid 

jsiiceession.     Bert,  kneeling  at  the  window,  with  arms 

resting  on  the  ledge,  and  just  able  to  see  the  three 

horses  on  hLs  side,  was  so  engrossed  in  watching  them, 

or  peering  into  the  forest  through  which  the  road  cut 


30 


BERT   LLOYDS   BOYHOOD. 


its  way,  that  he  quite  forgot  his  desire  to  be  up  on  top 
of  the  coach. 

Having  gone  fifteen  miles  at  a  spanking  pace,  the 
coacli  drove  into  a  h)ng-c()vered  barn  for  the  horses  to 
be  changed,  and  everybody  got  out  to  stretch  their 
legs;  while  this  was  being  done,  Bert's  longing  caino 
back  in  full  force.  As  he  stood  watching  the  tired 
foam-fleclvcd  horses  being  led  away,  and  others,  sleek, 
shining,  and  spirited  put  in  their  places,  who  should 
pass  by  but  Mr.  Miller.  Recogni/ing  at  once  his  littlo 
a(!quaintance  of  the  morning,  he  greeted  him  with  a 
cheery  : 

"Hallo!  my  little  man,  are  we  fellow  travelers 
still  ?     And  how  do  you  like  riding  in  a  coach  ?  " 

"  I  think  it's  just  splendid,  sir,"  replied  Bert ;  and 
then,  as  a  bright  thought  flashed  into  his  mind, — "bui 
I  do  so  want  to  be  up  where  the  driver  is. " 

Mr.  Miller  looked  down  at  the  little  face  turned 
np  to  his,  and  noting  its  eager  expression  asked, 
kindly : 

*'  Do  you  think  your  mother  would  let  you  go  up 
there?" 

"  Oh,  yes ;  she  said  I  might  if  I  would  only  wait  a 
little,  and  it  is  a  good  deal  more  than  a  little  while 


now. 


») 


"  Very  well,  Bert,  you  run  and  ask  her  if  you  may 
get  up  now,  and  I'll  try  and  manage  it, "  said  jNlr. 
Miller. 

Bert  was  not  long  in  getting  his  mother's  sanction, 


11 


11  i 

iiiiii 


BKRT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


31 


(1  when  lie  returned  with  beaming  face,  Mr.  Miller 
iking  him  np  to  Jaeiv  Davis,  said: 

.Juelv,  tills  little  chap  is  <lying  to  sit   up   with  us. 
[e  waiits  to  see  how  the  best  driver  in  Acadia  handles 
[is  horses,  I  suppose." 
'Diere  was   no   resisting   such   an   appeal   as   this, 
icivled  with  the  compliment,  Jack  said,  graciously: 

All  right,  Mr.  Miller,  you  can  chuck  him  up,  so 
)nL'  as  you'll  look  after  him  yourself." 
And  so  when  the  fresh  horses  were  harnessed,  and 
lie  passengers  back  in  their   places,  behold   Cuthbert 
Joyd,  the  proudest,   happiest  boy    in  all  the  land, 
relied  up  between  the  driver  and  Mr.  Miller,  feeling 
iniself  as  much  monarch  of  all  he  surveyed,  as  ever 
lid  Robinson  Crusoe  in  his  island  home.    It  was  little 
(louder  if  for  the  first  mile  or  two  he  was  too  happj 
0  ;isk  any  questions.     It  was  quite  enough  from  his 
loi'ty,  but  secure  position,  to  watch  the  movements  of 
[he  six  handsome  horses  beneath  him  as,  tossing  their 
leads,  and  making  feigned  nips  at  one  another,  they 
rotti^l  alontj  with  the  heavv  coach  as  though  it  were 
mere  trifle.     The  road  ran  through  a  very  pretty 
li>triot;  well-cultivated  farms,  making  frequent  gaps 
[n  the  forest,  and  many  a  brook  and  river  lending  va- 
riety to  the  scene.     Afler  Bert  had  groNvn  accustomed 
the  novelty  of  his  position,  his  tongue  began  to  wag 
iiiam,  and  his  bright,  innocent  questions  afforded  Mr. 
diller  so  much  amusement,  that  with  Jack  Davis'  full 
ipproval,  he  was  invited  to  remain  during  the  next 


32 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


I     Jiiili 


stage  also,  Mrs.  Lloyd  would  rather  have  had  him 
with  her  inside,  but  he  pleaded  so  earnestly,  and  Mr. 
Miller  assuring  her  that  he  was  not  the  least  trouble, 
she  finally  consented  to  his  staying  up  until  they 
changed  horses  again. 

Wlien  they  were  changing  horses  at  this  post,  Mr, 
Miller  drew  Bert's  attention  to  a  powerful  black  horse 
one  of  the  men  was  carefully  leading  out  of  the  stable. 
All  the  other  horses  came  from  their  stalls  fullv  bar- 
uessed,  but  this  one  had  on  nothing  except  a  bridle. 

"See  how  that  horse  carries  on,  Bert,"  said  Mr. 
Miller. 

And,  sure  enough,  the  big  brute  was  prancing 
about  with  ears  bent  back  and  teeth  showing  in  a 
most  threatening  fashion. 

"  They  daren't  harness  that  horse  until  he  is  in  hi: 
place  beside  the  pole,  Bert.  See,  now,  they're  going 
to  put  the  harness  on  him." 

And  as  he  spoke  another  stable  hand  came  up, 
deftly  threw  the  heavy  harness  over  the  horse's  back, 
and  set  to  work  to  buckle  it  with  a  speed  that  showed 
it  was  a  job  he  did  not  care  to  dally  over.  No  sooner 
was  it  ac  .  mplished  than  the  other  horses  were  hastily 
put  in  their  places,  the  black  wheeler  in  the  mean- 
time tramping  upon  the  barn  floor  in  a  .seeming  frenzy 
of  impatience,  although  his  head  was  tightly  held. 

"Now,  then,  all  aboard  as  quick  as  you  can,"' 
shouted  Jack  Davis,  swinging  himself  into  his  seat. 
Mr.  Miller  handed  up  Bert  and  followed  himself,  tli 


lilll  11 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


side  passengers  scrambled  hurriedly  in,  and  then 
uli  a  sharp  whinny  the  black  wheeler,  his  head 
iinf  released,  started  off,  almost  pulling  the  wiiole 

1(1  liiniself. 

[*•  Black  llory  does  not  seem  to  get  over  his  bad 

ihh^,  Jack."  remarked  Mr.  Miller. 

i" No,"  replied  Jack  ;  "quite  the  other  way.     He's 

^tiiug  worse,  if  anything;  but  he's  too  good  a  horse 

chuck  over.     There's  not  a  better  wheeler  on  the 
[ute  than  Rory,  once  he  settles  down  to  his  work.'' 

After  going  a  couple  of  miles,  during  which  Rory 
^haved  about  as  badly  as  a  wheeler  could,  he  did 

"le  down  quietly  to  his  work  and  all  went  smoothly. 
IIkv  were  among  the  hills  now,  and  the  steep  ascents 
1(1  descents,  sharp  turns  and  many  bridges  over  the 
lilies  made  it  necessary  for  Davis  to  drive  with  the 
tinost  care.  At  lenoth  thev  reached  the  summit  of 
ie  long  slope  and  began  the  descent  into  the  valley. 

''I'd  just  as  soon  I  hadn't  any  doubts  about  this 
rake,"  said  Davis  to  Mr.  Miller,  as  he  put  his  foot 
ml  down  upon  it. 

"Oh,  it'll  hold  all  right  enough,  Jack,"  replied 
[r.  Miller,  reassuringly. 

"  Hope  so,"  said  Davis.     "  If  it  doesn't,  we'll  have 

run  for  it  to  the  bottom." 

The  road  slanted  steadily  downward,  and  with 
rake  held  hard  and  wheelers  spread  out  from  the 

hi  holding  back  with  ail  their  strength,  the  heavy 
)ach  lumbered  cautiously  down.     Now  it  was  that 

c 


34 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


Black  Rory  proved  his  worth,  for,  thoroughly  under- 
standing what  was  needed  of  ijiin,  he  threw  his  whole 
weight  and  strength  back  upon  the  pole,  keeping  his 
own  mate  no  less  than  the  leaders  in  check. 

"We'll  be  at  Brown's  Gully  in  a  couple  of  min- 
utes," said  the  driver.  "  Once  we  get  past  there,  all 
right;  the  rest  won't  matter." 

Brown's  Gully  was  the  ugliest  bit  of  road  on  the 
whole  route.  A  steep  hill,  along  the  side  of  which 
the  road  wound  at  a  sharp  slant,  led  down  to  a  deep. 
dark  gully  crossed  by  a  high  trestle  bridge.  Jusi 
before  the  bridge  there  was  a  sudden  turn  which 
required  no  common  skill  to  safely  round  when  going 
at  speed. 

As  they  reached  the  beginning  of  the  slant,  Jack 
Davis'  face  took  on  an  anxious  look,  his  mouth  be-i| 
came  firm  and  set,  his  hand  tightened  upon  the  reill^  1 
and  his  foot  upon  the  brake,  and  with  constant  ex-| 
clamation  to  his  horses  of  "  Easy,  now  ! — go  easy  I— 
hold  back,  my  beauties!"  he  guided  the  great  coaclii 
in  its  descent.  - 

Mr.  Miller  put  Bert  between  his  knees,  saying : 

"Stick    right    there,   my  boy;    don't    budge    am 
inch."  -    "  •       ' 

Although  the  wheelers,  and  particularly  Black  Rorv, 
were  doing  their  best,  the  coach  began  to  go  faster! 
than  Davis  liked,  and  with  a  shout  of  "Whoa  there  I 
Go  ea»sy,  will  you  ! "  he  had  just  shoved  his  foot  still 
harder  against  the  brake,  when   there  was  a  sharp 


crack,  a 
upon  til 

"  (mh 
^\'e^'e  <i 

And 

It  w; 
tiiilitly 
knees, 
board  ai 
all  liis  g 
over  th( 
Gully,  a: 
showed  ( 
corner  w 
carriage  | 
Davis  w€ 
they  swu 
was  clear 
tiie  dang( 

"Now 
doiis  tug 
in  that  di 

Mr.  Mi 
to  be  ga; 
must  go 
and  it  wa 

As  the 
straight  i 
over  the  < 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhoc^h. 


35 


sharp 


crack,  and  the  huge  vehicle  suddenly  sprang  forward 
upon  the  wheelers'  heels. 

"  GckI  help  us ! "  cried  Jack,  "  the  brake's  gone. 
We've  got  to  run  for  it  now.'* 

And  run  for  it  they  did. 

It  was  a  time  of  great  peril.  Mr.  Miller  clung 
tlt'litly  to  the  seat,  and  Bert  shrank  back  between  his 
knees.  Davis,  with  feet  braced  against  the  dash- 
board and  reins  gathered  close  in  his  hands,  put  forth 
all  ills  great  strength  to  control  the  horses,  now  flying 
over  the  narrow  road  at  a  wild  gallop.  Brown's 
Gully,  already  sombre  with  the  shadows  of  evening, 
showed  (lark  and  deep  before  them.  Just  around  that 
corner  was  the  bridge.  Were  they  to  meet  another 
carriage  there,  it  would  mean  destruction  to  both. 
Davis  well  knew  this,  and  gave  a  gasp  of  relief  when 
they  swung  round  the  corner  and  saw  that  the  road 
was  clear.  If  they  could  only  hit  the  bridge,  all  right : 
the  danger  v«^ould  be  passed. 

"  Now,  Rory,  now"  shouted  Davis,  giving  a  tremen- 
dous tug  at  the  horse's  left  rein,  and  leaning  far  over 
in  tliat  direction  himself. 

j\Ir.  Miller  shut  his  eyes ;  the  peril  seemed  too  great 
to  be  gazed  upon.  If  they  missed  the  bridge,  they 
must  go  headlong  into  the  gully.  Another  moment 
and  it  was  all  over. 

As  the  coach  swung  round  the  corner  into  the 
straight  road  beyond,  its  impetus  carried  it  almost 
over  the  edge,  but  not  quite.     With  a  splendid  effort, 


36 


BERT  LLOYD'S    BOYHOOD. 


the  great  black  wheeler  drew  it  over  to  the  left.  The 
front  wheels  kept  the  track,  and  although  the  hind 
wheels  struck  the  side  rail  of  the  bridge  with  a  crash 
and  a  jerk  that  well  nigh  hurled  Bert  out  upon  the 
horses'  backs,  and  the  big  coach  leaned  far  over  to  the 
right,  it  shot  back  into  the  road  again,  and  went 
thundering  over  the  trembling  bridge  uninjured. 

"  Thank  God  ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Miller,  fervently, 
when  the  danger  was  passed. 

"  Amen  ! "  responded  Jack  Davis. 

"I  knew  he  would  help  us,"  added  Bert 

"Knew  who  would,  Bert?"  inquired  Mr.  Miller,! 
bending  over  him  tenderly,  while  something  very  likej 
a  tear  glistened  in  his  eye. 

"  I  knew  God  would  take  care  of  us,"  replied  Bert, 
promptly.  "  The  driver  asked  him  to  ;  and  didn't 
you  ask  liim,  too?" 

"  I  did,"  said  Mr.  Miller,  adding,  with  a  sigh,  "  but  I 
I'm  afraid  I  had  not  much  right  to  expect  liim  to  I 
hear  me." 

They  had  no  further  difficulties.  The  road  rani 
smoothly  along  the  rest  of  the  way,  and  shortly  after 
sundown  the  coach,  with  great  noise  and  clatter,  drove 
into  the  village  of  Riverton,  where  gnuidpapa  was  to 
meet  Mrs.  Lloyd  and  Bert,  and  take  them  home  in  his  | 
own  carriage. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

AT  GRAXDFATHER^S. 


EASILY  distinguished  in  the  crowd  gathered  to 
welcome  the  coach,  whose  arrival  was  always  the 
event  of  the  evening,  was  Bert's  grandfather,  'Squire 
Stewart,  a  typical  old  Scotchman,  from  every  point  of 
view.  As  the  passengers  got  out,  he  stood  watching 
tlieni  in  silent  dignity,  until  Mrs.  Lloyd,  catching 
sight  of  him,  ran  impulsively  up,  and  taking  his  face 
between  her  two  hands,  gave  him  a  warm  kiss  on  each 
I  cheek,  saying : 

"  Dear  father,  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you  looking  so 
well." 

"And  I'm  well  pleased  to  see  you,  Kate,"  re- 
sponded the  'Squire,  in  a  tone  of  deep  aflfection,  ad- 
ding :  "  And  is  this  your  boy  ?  "  as  Bert,  who  in  the 
mean  time  had  been  lifted  down  from  his  place,  came 
to  his  mother's  side. 

"  He's  a  fine  big  boy,  and  not  ill-looking,  either.  I 
trust  his  manners  have  not  been  neglected. " 

"  You'll  have  to  judge  of  that  for  yourself,  father," 
replied  Mrs.  Lloyd.  "  He's  by  no  means  perfect,  but 
he's  pretty  good,  upon  the  whole.  " 

"Well,  daughter,    I'll  go  and  get  the  wagon,  if 

87 


i    I     'ill 
■    'ill' 


38 


BERT  LLOYD'S    BOYHOOD. 


lii  liii 


i;|i 


Mii'i' 


|i  I:  '  i^l^ 


it 


you'll  just  wait  here  a  moment,  "  said  Mr.   Stewart,  | 
going  off  toward  the  stables. 

Presently  he  returned,  driving  a  double  wagon  with  | 
a  fine  span  of  well-matched  bays,  which,  old  man 
though  he  was,  he  held  in  complete  control. 

"  We  won't  mind  the  trunks  now,  Kate ;  I  will  send  1 
in  for  them  in  the  morning, "  said  he,  as  he  helped  J 
them  into  their  ecats. 

Maplebank,  'Sqi  're  '^  'wart's  place,  was   situated 
about  four  miles  from  liivcrton,  and  on  the  way  out 
father  and  daughU*   had  much  to  say  to  one  another. 
As  for  Bert,  he  sat  in  silence  on  his  seat.     He  felt 
very  much  awed  by   his  grandfather.     There  was 
something  so  stern  and  severe  about  his  time-worn 
countenance,  he  seemed  so  stiff  in  his  bearing,  and  his  i 
voice  had  such  a  deep,  rough  tone  in  it,  that,  to  tell  the 
truth,  Bert  began  to  feel  half  sorry  he  had  come. 
But  this  feeling  disappeared  entirely  when,  on  arriving  I 
at  Maplebank,  he  found  himself  in  the  arms  of  Aunt 
Sarah  before  he  had  time  to  jump  out  of  the  wagon,  i 
and  was  then  passed  over  to   his  grandmother,  who  | 
nearly  smothered  him  with  kisses. 

If  his  grandfather  filled  him  with  awe,  his  grand- 
mother inspired  him  with  love,  from  the  very  start. 
And  no  wonder,  indeed,  for  she  was  the  very  poetry  | 
of  a  grandmother.  A  small  woman,  with  slender 
frame,  already  stooping  somewhat  beneath  the  burden 
of  years,  her  snow-white  hair  and  spotless  cap 
framed  one  of  the  sweetest  faces  that  ever  beamed  on 


BERT   LLOYD^S*  BOYHOOD. 


39 


ihis  earth.  Bert  gave  her  his  whole  heart  at  once,  and 
luring  all  the  days  he  spent  at  Maplebank  she  was 
lis  best  loved  friend. 

Yet  he  did  not  fail  to  be  very  fond  of  his  two 
units,  likewise.  With  an  uncle,  who  remained  at 
lonio,  assisting  his  father  in  the  management  of  the 
)r()j)orty,  they  comprised  the  household,  and  the  three 
ipjnireiitly  conspired  to  do  their  best  to  spoil  Master 
[jJert  during  tliat  summer.  Bert  took  very  kindly  to 
Itlie  spoiling,  too,  and  under  the  circumstances  it  was 
la  w(jndcr  he  did  not  return  to  Halifax  quite  de- 
Inoralizcd,  as  regards  domestic  discipline.  But  of  this 
Ifartlier. 

They  were  a  merry  party  sitting  down  to  tea  that 
levening,  and  Bert,  having  appeased  his  hunger  and 
found  liis  tongue,  amused  them  all  very  much  by  his 
account  of  what  he  had  seen  from  the  coach  top.  The 
narrow  escape  they  had  had  at  Brown's  Gully  was  of 
course  much  discussed.  'Squire  Stewart  had  nothing 
i  but  censure  for  the  driver. 

''  Tiie  man  had  no  business  to  2:0  out  with  anvthinsj 
likely  to  break.  Better  for  you  to  have  waited  a  day 
than  run  any  such  risks.  I  shall  certainly  bring  the 
matter  to  the  attention  of  Mr.  Lindsay,"  he  said. 

Nobody  ventured  to  say  anything  to  the  contrary; 
but  Bert,  who  was  sitting  by  his  mother,  turned  an 
anxious  face  up  to  hers,  and  whispered  :  "  Grandpapa 
won't  hurt  Mr.  Davis,  will  he?  He  was  so  good  to 
me,  and  he  asked  God  to  save  us ;  and  he  did." 


i   ! 


liiiillll 


t 


"ffillii 


%m'''^ 


111! 

Hiiiiiiiiiii  r 


II  Hill 
ill!  IP 


40 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


"It  will  be  all  right, dear, '^  his  mother  whispered 
back.  "  Don't  worry  yourself  about  it."  And 
Bert,  reassured,  said  nothing  more. 

Bed  time  for  him  soon  came,  and  then,  to  his  great 
delight,  he  found  that  instead  of  being  banished  to  a 
room  somewhere  away  upstairs,  he  was  to  be  put  in  a 
curious  bed,  that  filled  a  corner  of  the  parlor  in  which 
the  family  sat.     Bert  had  never  seen  anvthinff  like 
that   bed   before.     It  looked  just  like  a  closet,  but 
when  you  opened  the  closet  door,  behold,  there  was  a  | 
bed,  and  a  very  comfortable  one,  too.     Just  behind 
the  parlor,  with  a  door  between,  was  the  best  bed-i 
room,  which  his  mother  would  have,  and  there  Bert 
undressed,  returning  in  his  night  gown  to  say  good- 1 
night  to  all  before  tumbling  into  bed. 

With  the  closet  door  wide  open,  he  could  see  every- 
thing that  went  on  in  the  room ;  and  it  was  so  de- 
lightful to  lie  there  watching  the  family  reading  or 
tidking,  until,  at  last,  sleep  came  to  claim  him. 

"  Now,  if  you're  a  good  boy,  and  don't  attempt  to 
talk  after  your  head's  on  the  pillow,  I'll  leave  the ! 
door  open,  so  you  can  see  us  all,"  said  Aunt  Sarah,  as' 
she  tucked  Bert  snugly  in ;  and  he  had  sense  enough 
to  be  a  good  boy,  so  that  not  a  sound  came  from  him 
ere  his  brown  eves  closed  for  the  night. 

Many  a  night  after  that  did  he  lie  there  luxuriously, 
watching  his  grandfather  reading  the  newspaper,  with 
a  candle  placed  between  his  face  and  the  paper,  in 
such   close  proximity  to  both,  that  Bert's  constant 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


41 


wonder  was  that  one  or  the  other  of  them  never  got 
burned ;  his  grandmother,  whose  eyes  no  longer  per- 
mitted her  to  read  at  niglit,  knitting  busily  in  her  arm 
cliair,  or  nodding  over  her  needles;  Aunt  Sarah, 
readinc-  in  the  book  that  alwavs  lav  at  hand  for  leisure 
moments;  Aunt  Martha,  stitching  away,  perhaps  on 
some  of  his  own  torn  garments;  his  mother  writing 
home  to  Mr.  Lloyd,  or  to  Mary;  while  from  the 
kitclien,  outside,  came  the  subdued  sound  of  the  ser- 
vants' voices,  as  they  chattered  over  their  tasks.  Bert 
thought  it  a  lovely  way  to  go  to  sleep,  and  often  after- 
ward, when  at  home,  going  up  alone  to  bed  in  liis 
own  room,  wished  that  he  was  back  at  grandfather's 
airain. 

Bert  slept  late  the  next  morning,  for  he  was  a  very 
tired  boy  when  he  went  to  bed ;  and  for  this  once;  he 
was  indulged.  But  as  he  entered  the  dining  room, 
his  grandfather,  who  had  finished  breakfast  a  full 
hour  before,  looking  at  him  with  that  stern  expression 
which  was  habitual  to  him,  said  : 

''  City  boys  must  keep  country  hours  when  they 
come  to  the  country.  Early  to  bed,  early  to  rise,  is 
the  rule  of  this  house,  mv  bov." 

Poor  Bert  was  rather  disconcerted  by  this  reception, 
but  managed  to  say : 

"All  right^  grandpapa,  I'll  try,"  as  he  took  his 
seat. 

The  day  was  full  of  novelty  and  delight  to  the  city 
boy,  as,  under  Uncle  Alec's  guidance,  he  went  about 


!li 


^::!i| 


42 


BERT  LLOYD  d   BOYHOOD. 


the  farm,  and  visited  the  horses  in  the  stable,  the 
cattle  in  the  pasture,  the  pigs  in  the  stye ;  and  then, 
with  Aunt  Martha,  inspected  the  dairy,  a  big  cool 
room  in  a  small  building,  well  shaded  by  trees,  where 
long  rows  of  shallow  pans  stood  filled  with  rich  milk 
or  golden  cream  j  while  just  before  tea,  Aunt  Sarah 
claimed  him  ft)r  a  walk  in  the  garden,  where  tiger 
lilies,  hollyhocks,  mock  oranges,  peonies,  and  other 
old-fashioned  flowers  grew  in  gay  profusion. 

Grandmother  was  too  much  engrossed  with  her 
daughter  to  pay  much  attention  to  Bert  that  day. 
Yet  he  had  more  than  one  token  of  affection  at 
her  hands;  and,  taken  altogether,  it  was  a  very  happy 
dav. 

After  tea,  Mrs.  Lloyd  took  her  son  off  for  a  little 
chat  alone^  wishing  to  draw  him  out  as  to  his  first 
impressions. 

"Have  you  had  a  happy  day,  Bert?"  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  indeed,  mother.  It  has  been  just  splendid. 
I  think  grandmmama  and  uncle  and  my  aunties  are 
lovelv,  but" — and  here  Bert  hesitated  as  if  afraid  to 
finish  his  remark. 

"But  what,  Bert?"  asked  Mrs.  Lloyd.  "What 
were  you  going  to  say  when  you  stopped  ?  " 

"  I  don't  like  grandpapa,  mother,"  said  Bert,  after 
a  little  pause,  bringing  the  words  out  slowly,  and 
then  adding,  almost  in  a  whisper,  "I'm  afraid  of 
grandpapa,  mother." 

"  Hush,  Bert.     You  shouldn't  say  that  you  don't 


1  '■illl 


Ei!:RT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


43 


like  voiir  grandfather.  But,  tell  me,  why  are  you 
atVaiciof  him?'' 

''  01),  because  he  seems  so  cross,  and  isn't  kind  to 
me  like  the  others." 

"  But  he  isn't  really  cross,  Bert.  He  loves  you 
quite  as  much  as  the  others  do,  but  then  he  is  an  old 
man  and  has  a  great  deal  to  think  about.  Now,  Bert 
darling,  I  want  you  to  learn  to  love  your  grandpapa, 
and  to  trv  and  never  be  anv  bother  to  him.  You 
will,  won't  vou?" 

"  I'll  try  not  to  be  a  bother  to  him,  mother,  but  I 
don't  think  it's  much  use  my  trving  to  love  him  un- 
less  ho  stops  looking  so  cross." 

''Well,  try  your  best,  at  all  events,  Bert,"  said 
Mrs.  Lloyd,  giving  her  son  a  tender  kiss.  *'And 
now  come,  let's  see  if  we  can  find  grandmother." 


i-  \ 


wT 


CHAPTER  VII. 


COUNTRY  EXPERIENCES. 


BERT  had  come  to  Maplebank  just  in  time  for  the 
haying  season.  Tlie  long  slopes  of  upland  am; 
the  level  stretches  of  intervale  waved  before  the  breeze 
their  russet  and  green  wealth,  awaiting  the  summons 
of  the  scythe  and  reaper.  A  number  of  extra  hands 
had  been  hired  to  help  in  gathering  the  crop,  wliitii 
this  year  was  unusually  abundant,  and  a  few  davs| 
after  Bert's  coming  the  attack  was  begun. 

The  mowing  machine  had  not  yet  reached  Maplfr| 
bank.     The  papers  were  talking  about  it  a  good  deal, 
but  'Sijuire  Stewart  was  not  the  man  to  quickly  adopt  I 
new  inventions,  and  nobody  else  in  the  neighborhood 
could  afford  to  do  so.     Consequently,  the  West  River 
Valley  still  continued  to  witness  the  good,  old-fash- 
ioned way  of  mowing  with  the  scythe;    and   Bert, 
accompanying  Uncle  Alec  to  the  field,  was  filled  witlil 
admiration  for  the  stalwart  "  Rorys,"  and  "  Donalds," 
and  "Sandys"  as  they  strode  along  through  the  thick 
grass,  cutting  a  wide  swath  before  them.     There  was 
something  in  the  work  that  appealed  to  the   boy's 
bump  of  destructiveness,  and  filled  him  with  eagerness] 
to  join  in  it. 

"Oh,  Uncle  Alec,  mayn't  I  mow?"  he  asked. 
44 


■^ 


BERT  LLOYD'S   BOVUOOD. 


45 


"Certainly,  Bert,  if  you  know  liow;  but  if  you 
iluii't,  1  wouldn't  advise  you  to  try  it,"  was  the  smiling 
n'i)ly. 

Not  at  all  discouraged,  Bert  waited  patiently  until 
one  of  tlie  mowers  stopped  to  sharpen  his  scythe,  and 
then  stepping  to  him,  asked,  in  his  most  engaging 
way : 

"  Please,  sir  won't  you  let  me  mow  a  little?" 

Tiie  man  Ic  iked  down  at  him  in  surprise. 

*'  Vou  coul  n't  hold  a  scythe,  sonny,"  he  said,  with 
a  grin  of  ami  jement. 

"Oil,  ves  I  could.  Please  let  me  trv;  won't 
yon?"  plea  ed  Bert. 

The  mi  'elded,  and  placing  his  scythe  in  Bert's 
luiiuls,  told  II. .2'    ^  ""o  ahead. 

With  much  difficuitv  T-'r'  -succeeded  in  grasping 
the  two  short  handles  which  proje-.-^d  from  the  long 
curved  snath,  and,  summoning  all  his  strength,  he 
tried  to  move  the  scythe  in  the  way  the  mowers  were 
doing.  But  at  the  first  attempt  the  sharp  point  stuck 
in  the  turf,  and  instantly  the  long  handle  flew  up, 
turned  over,  and  hit  him  a  hard  crack,  square  between 
the  eyes,  that  felled  him  to  the  ground. 

Tiie  stars  were  dancing  before  his  eyes,  and  the 
next  moment  the  tears  would  have  been  tliere  too, 
had  he  not,  as  he  picked  himself  up,  caught  sight  of 
the  men  laughing  heartily  over  his  mishap. 

"They  shan't  see  me  cry,"  said  he  to  himself;  and, 
putting  forth  a  heroic  effort,  he  swallowed  his  tears, 


ir; 


46 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


though  the  gulping  them  down  was  positively  painful, 
and.  standing  up  straight,  looked  bravely  about  him. 
Uncle  Alec  saw  it  all  and  understood  just  how  Bert 
felt. 

"  Well  done,  my  little  hero/'  said  he,  clapping  him 
on  the  back.     "  You  have  the  right  stuff  in  you.'^ 

"  That  he  has,  sir,"  said  Big  Sandy,  with  an  admir- 
ing look.  "  He  would  make  a  right  good  laddie  for 
the  farm." 

Bert's  heart  was  filled  with  joy  at  these  praises,  and 
he  determined  that  nobody  on  the  farm  should  ever 
see  him  cry,  unless  he  really  couldn't  at  all  help  it. 

The  scythe  handle  gave  him  quite  an  ugly  bruise, 
which  caused  many  a  question  when  he  went  back  to 
the  house ;  and  Aunt  Sarah,  who  was  as  nervous  as 
she  was  loving  and  sympathetic,  made  much  ado  over 
it,  and  insisted  on  a  bandage,  which  made  Bert  look 
like  a  little  soldier  who  had  been  in  action.  Mrs. 
Llovd  took  the  matter  much  more  quietlv.  She  knew 
her  sou  had  to  get  his  share  of  bumps  and  bruises, 
and  that  each  one  would  bring  wisdom  with  it;  so 
she  contented  herself  with  a  kiss  of  sympathy,  and  the 
hope  that  he  would  have  better  fortune  next  time. 

The  succeeding  days  were  A  of  surprises  and 
enjoyments  to  Bert. 

His  mother  gave  him  full  liberty  to  go  and  come  as 
he  pleased,  so  long  as  he  did  not  roam  beyond  the 
borders  of  the  homestead,  except  when  with  Uncle 
Alec.    The  hay  mows,  the  carriage  loft,  the  sheep 


■'"'I  illit 


BERT  LLOYD'8  BOYHOOD. 


47 


pens,  the  cattle  stalls,  were  all  explored ;  and  ever  so 
many  cosy  little  nooks  discovered,  that  seemed  just 
made  for  "hide  and  seek"  or  "I  spy."  'Squire 
Stewart  liad  tliree  barns  on  his  homestead;  one  very 
larsre  double  barn,  and  two  smaller  ones.  Each  of 
these  had  its  own  attractions ;  but  the  big  barn,  that 
stood  to  your  left,  half  way  between  the  red  gate  and 
the  house,  was  the  best  of  all.  It  contained  great  hay 
mows,  in  which  vast  quantities  of  hay  could  be  stored; 
a  row  of  stalls,  where  tlie  horses  stood  when  not  out 
at  pasture;  queer  dark  pens,  into  which  the  sheep 
were  gatliered  at  winter  time;  and  then,  down  under- 
neath, great  ranges  of  uprights,  between  which  the 
patient  cattle  were  fastened,  and  fed  with  hay,  in  the 
months  when  the  snow  lay  deep  upon  their  accustomed 
pastures.  There  was  an  air  of  shadowy  mystery  about 
this  huge,  rambling  structure,  with  its  lichen-patched 
roof,  that  fascinated  Bert,  and  that  even  the  saucy 
chirpings  of  the  sparrows,  which  boldly  built  their 
nests  in  its  dusty  corners,  could  not  dispel. 

Bert  often  wished  that  his  city  playmates  could 
come  and  share  with  him  the  enjoyments  of  "  grand- 
father's." He  was  not  without  companions,  however. 
Cameron,  the  big  blacksmith  at  tiie  cross-roads,  had 
three  freckle-faced  boys  that  were  very  glad  to  play 
with  the  little  gentleman  at  'Squire  Stewart's,  when 
they  could  get  away  from  the  nu.nerous  chores  they 
were  required  to  do  at  home ;  and  other  playmates 
60on  turned  up.     Bert  was  at  first  not  very  much 


i 


mm 


48 


BERT  LLOYD  S   BOYHOOD. 


m^ 


inclined  to  be  sociable  with  them.  Not  only  did  they 
seem  to  have  no  shoes  and  stockings,  but  their  entire 
clothing  was  usually  limited  to  a  battered  straw  hat, 
an  unbleached  cotton  shirt,  and  a  pair  of  rough  home- 
spun trousers ;  and  the  city  boy  was  inclined  to  look 
upon  the  country  lads  with  some  contempt,  until  his 
Aunt  Martha  cured  him  effectually  one  day  by  a 
remark  made  in  a  quiet  way. 

Bert  had  been  making  some  unflattering  comments 
upon  the  barefooted  youngsters,  when  Aunt  Martha 
interrupted  him.  > 

''  You  had  better  not  make  fun  of  those  boys,  Bert," 
said  she,  with  a  curious  smile.  *'  Tiiey  may  look  as 
though  they  were  poor,  but  remember  that  their 
fathers  have  all  of  rhem  their  own  carriage  and  horses, 
and  vour  father  has  not." 

Bert  saw  the  point  at  once,  and  never  again  ven- 
tured to  ridicule  boys  who  were  the  sons  of  "real 
carriage  folk."  Not  only  so,  but  he  began  at  once  to 
feel  a  respect  for  them,  which  wrought  such  a  change 
in  his  bearing:  toward  tliem,  that  they,  wlio  were  not 
at  all  favorably  impressed  at  first,  changed  their  minds 
and  decided  that  he  was  a  "  right  smart  little  fellow." 

It  was  while  playing  "hide  and  seek"  in  the  big 
barn,  with  half-a-dozen  of  these  youngsters,  that  Bert 
had  a  narrow  escape  from  serious  injury,  if  not,  in- 
deed, from  death.  The  great,  gaping  mows  were 
being  filled  with  hay,  which  was  pitched  in  any  way, 
and  not,  of  course,  packed  firmly.     Consequently,  it 


iliiil 

;  mm 


BERT  LLOYD  S   BOYHOOD. 


49 


was  in  some  places  like  snow  upon  the  Alpine  slopes — 
iv:uiy  to  full  in  an  avalanche,  at  the  slightest  tempta- 
tion. 

In  endeavoring  to  reach  a  far  corner  of  the  barn, 
wiiere  he  felt  sure  no  one  could  possibly  find  him, 
r  '  tried  to  cross  a  hill  of  hay,  that  had  piled  up  in 
0  .  division  of  the  mow.  His  hastv  movements  were 
just  what  was  needed  to  bring  the  whole  mass  toppling 
down  in  confusion  to  the  bottom  of  the  mow.  Un- 
fortunately for  him,  he  was  involved  in  the  over- 
throw, and  without  a  moment's  warning  was  buried 
beneath  a  hui^e  mass  of  hav.  As  he  went  slidinor 
helplessly  down,  he  uttered  a  cry  of  terror,  which 
startled  little  Rory  Chi.sholm,  who  sprang  out  from  his 
hiding  place,  just  in  time  to  see  poor  Bert  disappear. 

''Hi!  Hi!  bovs — come  here:  Bert  Llovd's  under 
the  iiay." 

The  boys  quickly  githered,  and  with  eager  hands 
set  to  work,  to  rescue  their  imperiled  playmate. 
But,  vigorously  though  they  toiled,  it  was  slow  prog- 
ress they  made ;  and  in  the  mean  time  the  little  fellow, 
pressed  upon  by  many  hundred  weight  of  hay,  was 
liist  loosing  breath  and  consciousness.  He  could  hear 
them  verv  indistinctlv,  but  could  not  make  a  sound 
himself.  . 

By  a  fortunate  accident,  one  of  tlie  men  happened 
aloiiL'',  just  as  the  boys  were  near  giving  up  the  task 
as  too  great  for  them. 

"  Donald  !  Donald  !   Quick  !   Bert  Lloyd's  under 


II    '  '" 


50 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


the  hay.  Dig  him  out,  or  he'll  die,  "  cried  Rory,  at 
the  top  of  bis  voice. 

Seizing  a  pitchfork,  Donald  attacked  the  hay  like  a 
giant,  getting  more  and  more  careful  as  he  drew 
near  the  bottom  of  the  mow,  until  at  last,  with  a 
shout  of  "I've  got  him,"  he  stooped  down,  and 
dras:2:ed  the  senseless  form  of  Bert  from  the  verv  hot- 
torn  of  the  pile.  Taking  him  in  his  arms,  he  ran  with 
him  to  the  house,  and  gave  Aunt  Sarah  a  great  fright, 
by  suddenly  plumping  him  into  her  lap,  as  she  sat  on 
the  veranda  reading,  saying,  breathlessly : 

"  Here,  miss,  bring  him  to,  and  he'll  be  none  the 
worse  for  it." 

Aunt  Sarah  screamed  for  hartshorne,  spirits  of 
wine,  and  the  dear  knows  what,  but  Mrs.  Lloyd, 
bringing  a  glass  of  water,  dashed  it  freely  over  iier 
boy's  pale  face,  and  in  a  minute  or  two  he  opened  liis 
eyes  again.  As  Donald  said,  he  was  none  the  worse 
for  his  experience,  for  no  bones  were  broken,  nor 
muscles  strained ;  yet  all  felt  thankful  that  he  liad 
escaped  so  well. 

It  was  not  long  after  this  that  Bert  had  another 
adventure,  which  also  came  near  costing  him  his  life. 
He  was  not  only  very  fond  of  water,  but  as  fearless 
about  it  as  a  Newfoundland  puppy.  The  blue  sea, 
calm  as  a  mirror  or  flecked  with  "white  caps," 
formed  part  of  his  earliest  recollections.  He  would 
play  at  its  margin  all  day  long,  building  forts  out  of 
saud,  for  the  advancing  billows  of  the  tide  to  storm 


and  ov€ 
jjlidiiiii: ' 
thing  in 
night,  aii 
iiig  in  t 
great  sal 
looked  at 
k'.'sly  at 
thought 
made  to 
j)eare(i,  ti 
ten  times 
One  da 
the  (lay  at 
edly  warn 
])arry  shoi 
assented,  i 
was  <riven 
lovely  .sj)(j 
one  might 
nytnph  or 
one  side,  tl 
feet  sechisi 
l^lace  for  ii 
^vith   plent 
heaeh,  and 
Amid  m 
dressed,  Ui 
as  he  had 


iiiiiii 


BERT  LLOYD^S   BOYHOOD. 


51 


and  overwlielra.  He  was  never  happier  than  when 
c-lidinf  over  it  in  his  father's  skiff.  It  was  the  last 
tliiiii;  in  nature  he  looked  upon  before  lying  down  at 
niirl»t,and  the  first  thing  to  which  he  turned  on  awak- 
wr  iu  the  morning.  Thus  he  got  so  used  to  the 
great  salt  sea,  that  when  he  came  to  Maplebank  and 
looked  at  the  quiet  stream,  which  glided  along  so  noise- 
le.sslv  at  tiie  bottom  of  the  slope  before  the  house,  he 
thoiigiit  it  a  mere  plaything,  and  could  hardly  be 
made  to  understand  that,  innocent  as  the  river  ap- 
peared, there  was  water  enougli  iu  it  to  drowu  him 
ten  times  over.  : 

One  day  some  of  the  village  folk  came  out  to  spend 
the  day  at  Maplebank,  and  the  weatiier  being  decid- 
edly warm,  Uncle  Alec  proposed  that  the  men  of  the 
party  sliould  go  with  him  for  a  bathe.  They  gladly 
absented,  and  Bert  having  begged  to  accompany  them 
was  sxiven  leave  to  do  so.  Uncle  Alec  took  them  to  a 
lovely  spot  for  a  bath — a  tempting  nook  in  which 
one  niigiit  almost  have  expected  to  surprise  a  water 
nymph  or  two,  if  you  drew  near  quietly  enougli.  On 
one  side,  the  bank  rose  high  and  steep,  affording  per- 
fect seclusion ;  a  narrow  beach  of  gravel  made  a  fine 
place  for  undressing.  The  river  rolled  gently  along 
with  plenty  of  depth,  and  beyond  it  was  another 
beach,  and  then  the  swelling  intervale. 

Amid  much  laughter  and  excitement,  the  men  un- 
dressed, Uncle  Alec  allowing  Bert  to  do  the  same, 
a8  he  had  promised  to  carry  him    across  the  river 


62 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


if 


Oil  his  back.  So  soon  as  thev  were  readv  the  bathers 
dived  in;  and,  with  much  splashing  and  noise,  swam 
ra(;es  to  the  opposite  bank,  leaving  Bert  alone  upon 
the  shore.  Skvlarkin^c  with  one  anothei  there  tiiev 
quite  forgot  their  little  companion  until  Uncle  Alec 
looking  across,  gave  a  start,  and  cried  out: 
*' Hallo!  What's  become  of  the  bov?'' 
Not  a  sign  of  Bert  was  to  be  seen.  His  little  pile 
of  clothes  with  hat  placed  carefully  on  top  was  plain 
enough,  but  no  Bert.  Full  of  anxiety.  Uncle  Alec 
sprang  into  the  water,  and  with  great  sweeping 
strokes  made  for  the  other  side.  The  w^ater  fairly 
foamed  about  his  broad,  white  shoulders  as  he  tore 
through  it.  He  steered  straight  for  the  spot  where 
he  had  seen  Bert  last.  Three-fourths  of  the  distance 
had  been  covered,  when  suddenly  he  stopped,  and, 
reaching  down  into  the  water,  pulled  up — What  do 
you  think?  W^hy,  Bert,  of  course,  whose  big  brown 
eyes  had  startled  him  as  they  looked  up  at  hiru 
through  the  clear,  cool  water.  But  how  did  Bert 
get  there?  Well,  easily  enough.  He  had  got  tired 
waiting  for  his  uncle  to  come  back  for  him.  He 
wanted  to  be  over  there  where  the  men  were  all 
having  such  fun.  He  could  not  swim  across,  so  be 
just  coolly  accepted  the  only  alternative,  and  startcJ 
to  walk  across!  When  Uncle  Alec  found  him  there  I 
was  a  clear  foot  of  water  over  his  head.  A  step  or 
two  more  and  he  would  certainlv  have  lost  his 
footing,    been    carried    away    by   the    current,  and 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


53 


drowned  perhaps  before  Uncle  Alec  could  have  found 

him. 

The  men  all  voted  him  a  young  hero  when  they 
were  told  of  his  attempt,  and  Uncle  Alec  vowed  he'd 
teaclj  him  to  swim  the  next  time  he  paid  a  visit  to 
Maplebank. 

Aunt  Sarah  was  greatly  excited  when  she  heard 
of  her  darling  Bert's  second  escape,  and  liad  Mrs. 
Lloyd  taken  her  advice  the  poor  boy  would  have 
heen  tied  to  somebody's  apron  strings  for  the  rest 
of  the  summer.  But  Mrs.  Llovd  tiiontjht  it  better 
to  do  no  more  than  caution  Bert,  and  trust  to  the 
Providence  that  protects  children  to  keep  him  from 
harm.  He  would  have  to  learn  to  take  care  of  him- 
self sooner  or  later;  and  the  sooner,  the  better. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


m 


TEMPTATION   AND   TRIUMPH. 

THE  one  day  in  the  week  that  Bert  did  not  like  at 
Maplebank  was  Sunday;  and,  indeed,  under 
the  circumstances,  lie  was  not  witliout  excuse.  At 
home,  the  Lord's  Day  was  always  made  as  bright  and 
clieerful  as  possible.  Tiie  toys  and  playthings  of  tlie 
week  days  were,  of  course,  put  aside,  and  wading  by 
the  seasiiore  or  coasting  down  the  lane^  was  not  to  be 
thought  of;  but  in  their  place,  Bert  had  liis  father's 
company,  of  which  he  never  had  enough,  and  Mr. 
Lloyd  made  it  a  point,  whetlier  he  really  felt  in  good 
spirits  himself  or  not,  to  appear  to  do  so  to  Bert;  and 
in  consequence,  the  little  chap  never  thought  his  father 
quite  so  delightful  as  on  the  day  of  rest,  that  was  so 
welcome  to  the  lawyer,  tired  by  a  week's  toil  at  his 
profession. 

Then  mother  had  more  leisure,  too ;  and  besides 
the  pleasure  of  going  with  his  parents  to  church, 
dressed  in  his  best  clothes,  a  privilege  Bert  fully 
appreciated,  there  was  the  enjoyment  of  having  her 
read  to  him  wonderfullv  interestino^  stories  from  the 
Bible,  or  Pilgrim's  Progress,  and  explaining  to  him 
whatever  puzzled  his  brain. 

If  the  day  was  fine,  Mary  would  take  him  with 
U 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


65 


her  to  the  Sunday-scliool  wliere,  with  a  number  of 
voiingsters  like  liimself,  the  hour  would  pass  quickly 
cnouiih,  as  Miss  Brightley  entertained  them  with 
song,  and  story,  and  pictures  bearing  upon  the  lesson. 
Aiul  tlien,  after  Sunday-school,  in  summer  time,  his 
father  would  lead  him  off  to  the  old  fort,  where  tliey 
would  sit  on  the  grassy  ramparts,  watching  the  white- 
sailed  ships  cleaving  the  blue  waters  that  never  seemed 
more  beautiful  than  on  Sunday  afternoon. 

But  at  Maplebank  it  was  all  very  different.  'Squire 
Stewart  was  a  Presbyterian  of  the  stern  old  Covenanter 
stock.  To  him,  the  Lord's  Day  meant  a  day  to  be  spent 
in  unsmiling  strictness  of  conversation  and  demeanor. 
No  laughter,  no  bright  talk,  no  semblance  of  joyous- 
ncss  was  sanctioned  ;  nor,  indeed,  could  have  existed 
within  the  range  of  his  solemn  countenance.  He  was 
a  c;rave  and  silent  man  at  anv  time,  but  on  Sundav 
tiie  gravity  of  his  appearance  was  little  short  of 
appalling.  One  meeting  him  for  the  first  time  would 
certainly  have  thought  that  he  had  just  been  visited 
by  some  overwhelming  affliction.  Bert,  on  the  morn- 
ing of  his  first  Sunday,  coming  out  of  his  mother's 
room,  after  receiving  the  finishing  touches  to  his  dress, 
and  dancing  along  the  hall,  in  joyous  anticipation  of 
the  drive  in  the  big  carriage  to  the  village,  ran  right 
into  his  grandfather.  Laying  a  strong  hand  on  the 
boy's  shoulder,  'Squire  Stewart  looked  down  at  him 
with  disapproval  written  on  every  line  of  his  stern 
face. 


56 


BERT  LLOYD  S    BOYHOOD. 


"  My  boy,"  said  lie,  in  his  deepest  tones,  "  know 
you  not  tlmt  tiiis  is  tiie  Sabbath  day,  and  tliat  you  are 
to  keep  it  holy,  and  not  be  dancing  along  the  hall  ?" 

Poor  Bert  shrank  away  with  a  trembling  "I  didn't 
mean  to,  sir,"  and  thenceforth  avoided  his  grandfatiier 
as  completely  as  though  he  were  a  criminal  and  the 
'squire  was  a  policeman. 

Not  only  at  the  house,  but  at  the  church,  did 
Bert  find  Sunday  a  day  of  dreariness.  And  here 
attain,  who  could  blame  him  ?  He  was  onlv  a  bov, 
and  a  very  restless,  active  boy,  at  that,  to  whom  one 
half  liour's  sitting  still  was  about  as  much  as  he  could 
endure.  How,  then,  could  he  be  expected  to  be  equal 
to  four  whole  hours  of  stillness?  Yet,  that  was  what 
his  grandfather  required  of  him,  whenever  he  went 
to  church.  . 

The  order  of  the  day  was  as  follows  :  Leaving  tlie 
house  about  ten  o'clock,  in  the  big  covered  carriage, 
of  which  the  'squire  felt  duly  proud,  as  being  the 
onlv  one  in  the  countv,  thev  drove  leisurely  into  tiie 
village,  where  the  horses  were  put  up,  and  after  the 
ladies  had  dropped  in  at  a  friend's  to  make  sure  their 
bonnets  and  dressess  were  as  they  ought  to  be,  they 
wended  their  way  to  the  church,  which,  standing  right 
in  the  centre  of  the  village,  was  noisily  summoning  its 
worshipers  to  its  seats  as  the  big  bell  swung  to  and 
fro  high  up  in  the  steeple. 

The  church  service  began  at  eleven  o'clock,  and 
was  of  the    most  old-fashioned  orthodox  type.     No 


m 


I'Tx' 


BERT   LLOYD  S    BOYHOOD. 


57 


organ  liad  yet  profaned  the  sanctity  of  that  lioly 
j)liice,  but  instead  tliereof,  a  quartette  of  singers,  se- 
joftetl  seemingly  more  for  the  strengtli  than  the 
sweetness  of  their  voices,  occupied  a  large  box  right 
under  tiie  pulpit,  and  thence  led  the  congregation  by 
a  whole  bar  at  least,  in  the  rendering  of  Tate  and 
J>rii(lv's  metrical  version  of  the  Psalms.  Verv  weird 
and  .sorrowful  were  many  of  the  tunes.  None  were 
bright  and  inspiring  like  those  Bert  was  wont  to  hear 
at  iiomo,  and  as  choir  and  congregation  vied  with  one 
anotlicr  in  the  vigor  of  their  singing,  the  little  fellow 
was  sometimes  half-frightened  at  the  bewildering 
noise  they  made. 

A  saintlier  pastor  than  the  Reverend  Mr.  Good- 
man, D.  D.,  few  congregations  possessed ;  but  only 
tiiose  members  of  his  audience  who  were  of  like  aije 
with  himself  thought  him  a  good  preacher.  He  had, 
indeed,  some  gifts  in  expounding  the  Bible,  and  even 
Bert  would  be  interested  if  the  lesson  happened  to  be 
one  of  those  stirrino:  stories  from  the  Old  Testament 
which  seem  so  full  of  life  and  truth.  But  when  it 
came  to  preaching  a  sermon — well,  it  must  be  confessed 
tiiere  were  then  few  dryer  preachers  throughout  the 
whole  Province  of  Acadia.  Bending  low  over  his 
manuscript,  for  his  eyesight  was  poor,  and  lifting  his 
liead  only  now  and  then  to  wipe  his  brow,  or  relieve 
liis  throat,  with  a  dry,  hard  cough,  Mr.  Goodman, 
pnrsued  his  wav  steadilv  and  raonotonouslv  from 
"  firstly  "  to  "  lastly  "  every  Sunday. 


58 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


I!il 


I  lif  IFW'«* 


And  not  only  once,  but  twice  on  every  Sunday. 
For  be  it  understood,  that  although  many  of  tlie  con- 
gregation lived  too  fur  away  from  the  church  to  make 
two  trips  to  it  from  their  homes,  they  were  not  thereby 
going  to  be  deprived  of  two  services.  Accordingly, 
after  the  morning  service — which  usually  lasted  until 
one  o'clock — was  over,  a  recess  of  one  hour  for  liuicli 
and  fresh  air  followed,  and  at  two  o'clock,  a  second 
service,  precisely  similar  in  character,  was  entered 
upon,  which  occupied  two  hours  more.  And  then, 
having  thus  laid  in  a  supply  of  sound  theology  for 
the  rest  of  the  week,  the  good  people  of  Calvin 
church,  after  indulging  in  a  little  liarmless,  gossiping 
at  the  church  door, — of  which  indulcrence,  bv  the  wav, 
'Squire  Stewart  strongly  disapproved,  and  would  have 
prohibited,  had  he  been  able, — harnessed  up  their 
liorses  and  drove  awav  home. 

Four  hours  of  church  service  of  so  unattractive  a 
character,  and  that  in  mid-summer  !  Poor  little  Bert! 
He  did  not  want  to  shock  his  grandfather,  or  bring 
his  mother's  discipline  into  condemnation  ;  but  really, 
how  could  he  be  all  that  the  'squire,  who,  if  he  ever 
had  been  a  boy  himself,  must  have  quite  forgotten 
about  it,  expected  him  to  be?  If  he  went  to  sleep. 
Aunt  Sarah  or  Aunt  Martha,  in  obedience  to  signals 
from  grandfather,  shook  or  pinched  him  awake  again. 
If  he  staved  awake,  he  felt  that  he  must  wriy:f!;le  or 
die.  Sometimes  the  temptation  to  scream  out  loud 
was  so  strong,  that  it  seemed  little  short  of  a  miracle 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


he  (11(1  not  yield  to  it.  Mrs.  Lloyd  fully  sympatliizcd 
with  Iiei'  son's  troubles,  but  accustomed  from  infancy 
to  obey  her  fatlier  unquestiouingly,  she  would  not 
venture  to  do  more  tlian  softly  plead  for  Bert,  now 
and  then,  wlien  he  was  more  restless  than  usual.  Her 
nloadiiigs  were  not  altogether  vain,  and  frequently 
thcv  iiad  the  result  of  securing  for  Bert  a  boon  that 
lie  higidy  appreciated. 

'S(jnii(?Stewart  was  bothered  by  a  troublesome  chronic 
cough,  lie  did  not  mind  it  very  much  when  at  home, 
but  at  church  he  felt  it  to  be  a  nuisance,  both  to  him- 
self and  bis  neighbors.  To  ease  it  somewhat,  he 
always  carried  to  church  with  him  a  number  of  black- 
currant lozenges,  a  supply  of  which  he  kept  in  his  big 
iiiahoiranv  desk  at  home.  Occasionailv,  either  as  en- 
cuuragenient  to  him  to  try  and  be  a  better  boy,  or  as 
a  token  of  relenting  for  being  over  severe,  lie  would 
pass  Bert  one  of  tiiese  lozenges,  and  Bert  thought 
tlieni  the  most  delicious  and  desirable  sweetmeat  ever 
invented.  Not  tliat  thev  were  reallv  anvtliing  wonder- 
ful,  tliough  they  were  very  expensive ;  but  the  circum- 
stances under  which  he  received  them  gave  them  a 
peculiar  relish  :  and  it  was  in  regard  to  them  that 
Bei  fo  TJit  and  won  the  sharpest  battle  with  the 
I  :  of  all  hi    early  boyhood.    It  happened  in  this 

A^  ah'f  idy  mentioned,  'Squire  Stewart  kept  a  supply 
of  these  lozenges  in  his  h\<r  mahogany  desk  that  had  a 
table  to  itself  in  the  parior.     This  desk  was  always 


i , 


1 


«f||!l!|ij' 


60 


BERT   LLOYD  S   BOYHOOD. 


i.  II 


kept  locked,  and  Bert  liad  many  a  time,  wlien  alone 
in  the  room,  gone  up  to  it  and  passed  his  hand  over 
its  polished  surface,  tiiiuking  to  himself  how  nice  it 
would  be  if  the  package  of  lozenges  was  in  his  pocket 
instead  of  shut  up  in  there  wliere  nobody  could  get 
at  it. 

One  morning,  as  Bert  was  playing  about  the  house, 
a  message  came  that  tlie  'squire  was  wanted  at  once  at 
the  farthest  barn,  as  one  of  the  horses  had  been  liurt 
bv  anotlier.  He  went  out  hastilv,  and  shortly  after, 
Bert,  going  into  the  parlor,  saw  the  desk  wide  open, 
his  grandfather  iiaving  been  looking  for  a  paper  when 
so  suddenly  called  awav.  The  moment-  his  eves  fell 
upon  tiie  open  desk,  a  thought  flashed  into  his  mind 
that  set  every  nerve  tingling.  As  though  the  old 
desk  exerted  some  strange  and  subtle  fascination,  he 
drew  near  it;  slowly,  hesitatingly,  almost  on  ilp-toe, 
yet  steadily.  His  heart  beat  like  a  trip-hammer,  and 
his  ears  were  straining  to  catch  the  slightest  sound  of 
any  one's  approach.  The  house  was  wonderfully 
quiet.  He  seemed  to  be  quite  alone  in  it;  and  pres- 
ently he  found  himself  close  beside  the  desk.  Althougli 
open,  the  inner  lids  were  still  shut,  and  ere  Bert  piu 
out  his  hand,  to  lift  the  one  under  which  he  thought 
the  package  of  lozenges  lay,  the  thought  of  the  wrong 
he  was  doing  came  upon  him,  so  strongly  as  well  nigh 
to  conquer  the  temptation.  For  a  moment,  he  stoud 
there  irresolute;  and  then  again  the  hand  that  had 
dropped  to  his  side  was  stretched  forth.    As  it  touched 


wmmm 


Im 


.Id 

he 

Itoe, 

uid 

of 

liUy 

res- 

hgh 

Ipiii 

M 

hng 
lifih 


liad 
led 


'■■I 


i] 


I 


Bert  Lloyd's  Hoyhooil. 


Pago  61. 


the  (lesl 

he  he.sit 

It  w:; 

wliich  t 
tliat  ro( 
fulJv  rei 
the  lozc 
they  hac 

licacl 
aud  the 
teiiiptiiii 
tents.  [ 
instant  i 
siiddenlv 
with  a  q 
fully  lUK 

'•  No, : 
lie  tried  t 
arms  of  I 
had  wit  I 

Ov-^erw 
havini;  h 
whom 
Hoor,  sol 
St ra Hire  t 
for  him 
lifting  th 
of  deepoj 
"  Xo 


I'll 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


61 


tlie  desk  lid,  a  thrill  shot  through  his  heart;  and  agaiu 
lie  hesitated  and  drew  hack. 

It  \vas  really  a  tremendous  struggle,  and  one  upoa 
wliich  great  issues  hung,  so  far  as  that  boy,  alone  in 
that  room  with  the  tempter,  was  concerned.  Bert 
fully  realized  how  wrong  it  would  be  for  him  to  touch 
the  lozenges ;  but,  oh  !  what  a  wonderful  fascination 
they  hud  for  him  ! 

Keaching  forward  again,  he  lifted  up  the  desk  lid, 
aud  tiiere,  fully  exposed  to  view,  lay  the  package 
temptingly  wide  0})en,  displaying  its  toothsome  con- 
tents. The  crisis  of  the  temptation  had  come.  An 
instant  more,  aud  Bert  would  have  yielded ;  when 
suddenly  his  better  nature  got  the  upper  hand,  aud 
with  a  quick  resolution,  the  secret  of  which  he  never 
fully  understood,  he  cried  out : 

'•  No,  I  won't."  And  slamming  down  the  desk  lid, 
he  tried  to  run  out  of  the  room,  and  ran  right  into  the 
aims  of  his  grandfather,  who,  unseen  and  unsuspected, 
had  witnessed  the  whole  transaction  from  the  door. 

Overwhelmed  with  a  sense  of  guilt  aud  terror  at 
having  been  detected  by  the  one  person  of  all  others 
whom  he  dreaded  most,  Bert  sank  down  on  the 
iiour,  sobbing  as  though  his  heart  would  break.  But, 
strange  to  say,  the  stern  old  man  had  no  harsh  words 
fur  him  now.  On  the  contrary,  he  bent  down,  and 
lifting  the  little  fellow  gently  to  his  feet  said,  in  tones 
of  deepest  tenderness  : 


"  Xo   tears,  laddie ;    no  tears. 


You've  fought  a 


62 


BERT  LLOYD'S    BOYHOOD. 


grand  fight,  and  glad  am  I  that  I  was  there  to  see 
you  win  it.  God  grant  you  like  success  to  the  end  of 
your  days.  I'm  proud  of  you,  Bert  boy ;  I'm  proud 
of  you. " 

Scarce  able  to  believe  his  ears,  Bert  looked  up 
through  his  tears  into  his  grundfather's  face.  But 
there  was  no  mistaking  the  expression  of  that  ruggod 
old  countenance.  It  fairlv  beamed  with  love  and 
pride,  and  throwing  himself  into  his  arms,  Bert  for 
the  first  time  realized  that  his  grandfather  loved  him. 

He  never  forgot  that  scene.  Many  a  time  after  it 
came  back  to  him,  and  helped  him  to  decide  for  tlie 
right.  And  many  a  time,  too,  when  grandfather 
seemed  unduly  stern,  did  the  remembrance  of  his  face 
that  morning  in  the  parlor  drive  away  the  hard  feel- 
ings that  had  begun  to  form  against  him. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


LOST  AND  FOUND. 


rpiIE  summer  days  passed  very  quickly  and  happily 


T 


for  Bert  at  Maplebauk,  especially  after  the  sur- 
prising revelation  of  the  love  and  tenderness  that  under- 
lav  his  o-randfather's  stern  exterior.  No  owe  did  more 
for  iiis  comfort  or  happiness  than  his  grandmother,  and 
lie  loved  her  accordinsjjlv  with  the  whole  strenscth  of 
his  young  heart.  She  was  so  slight  and  frail,  and 
walked  with  such  slow,  gentle  steps,  that  the  thought 
of  being  her  protector  and  helper,  often  came  into  his 
mind,  and  caused  him  to  put  on  a  more  erect,  im- 
portant hearing,  as  he  walked  beside  her  in  the  garden, 
or  through  the  orchard  where  the  apples  were  already 
beginning  to  give  promise  of  the  coming  ripeness. 

^Irs.  Stewart  manifested  her  love  for  her  grandson 
in  one  way  that  made  a  great  impression  upon  Bert. 
She  would  take  him  over  to  the  dairy,  in  its  cool 
])lace  beneath  the  trees,  and,  selecting  the  cooler  with 
tlie  tiiickest  cream  upon  it,  would  skim  oflP  a  teaspoon- 
iiil  into  a  large  spoon  that  was  already  half  filled 
with  new  oatmeal,  and  then  pour  tlie  luscious  mixture 
into  the  open  mouth  waiting  expectantly  beside  her. 

"Is  not  that  fine,  Bertie  boy?"  she  would  say, 
patting  him  affectionately  upon  the  head ;   and  Bert, 

63 


64 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


!;!"  ; 


M  I 


m 


his  mouth  literallv  too  full  for  utterance,  would  trv  to 
look  the  tliauks  he  could  not  speak. 

Maplebank  had  many  strange  visitors.  It  stood 
a  little  way  back  from  the  junction  of  three  roads, 
and  tiie  'squire's  hospitality  to  wayfarers  being  un- 
bounded,  tlie  consequence  was  that  rarely  did  a  night 
pass  without  one  or  more  finding  a  bed  in  some  corner 
of  tlie  kitchen.  Sometimes  it  would  be  a  shipwrecked 
sailor,  slowly  finding  his  way  on  foot  to  the  nearest 
shipping  port.  Sometimes  a  young  lad,  with  pack  on 
back,  setting  out  to  seek  his  fortune  at  the  capital,  or 
in  the  States  beyond.  Again  it  would  be  a  traveling 
tinker,  or  tailor,  or  cobbler,  plying  his  trade  fioiii 
house  to  house,  and  therebv  makinsr  an  lionest  livincj. 

But  the  most  frequent  visitors  of  all — real  nuisances, 
though,  they  often  made  themselves — were  the  poor, 
simple  folk,  of  whom  a  number  of  both  sexes  roamed 
ceaselessly  about.  Not  far  from  Maplebank  wa3 
what  the  better  class  called  a  "  strati  ash  district"— 
that  is,  a  settlement  composed  of  a  number  of  people 
who  had  by  constant  intermarriage,  and  poor  livins^ 
caused  insanity  of  a  mild  type  to  be  woefully  com- 
mon. Almost  everv  familv  had  its  idiot  bov  or  s:irl, 
and  these  poor  creatures,  being,  as  a  rule,  perfectly 
harmless,  were  suffered  to  go  at  large,  and  were  gen- 
erally well  treated  by  the  neighbors,  upon  whose 
kindness  they  were  continually  trespassing. 

The  best  known  of  them  at  the  time  of  Bert's 
visit,  was  one  called  "Crazy  Colin,"  a  strange  being, 


BKRT    LLOYDS    BOYHOOD. 


65 


half  wild,  lialf  civilized,  with  the  frame  of  an  athlete, 
luid  tlie  mind  of  a  child.  Although  more  than  thirty 
vears  of  asre,  he  had  never  showu  much  more  sense 
ilian  a  two-year-old  baby.  He  eveu  talked  iu  a  queer 
gibberisii,  such  as  was  suitable  to  that  stage  of  child- 
hood. Evervbodv  was  kind  to  him.  His  clothes 
and  Ills  food  were  given  him.  As  for  a  roof,  he  needed 
none  in  summer  save  when  it  stormed,  and  in  winter 
ho  found  refuge  among  his  own  people.  His  chief 
delight  was  roaming  the  woods  and  fields,  talulng 
vigorously  to  himself  in  his  own  language,  and  waving 
a  lontr  ash  staff  that  was  rarelv  out  of  his  hands, 
lie  would  thus  spend* whole  days  in  apparent  content, 
returning  only  when  the  pangs  of  hunger  could  be 
borne  no  longer. 

Bert  took  a  great  deal  of  interest  in  these  "straglash  " 
people,  and  especially  in  Crazy  Colin,  who  was  a 
frwjuent  visitor  at  the  'squire's  kitchen,  for  Mrs. 
Stewart  never  refused  him  a  generous  bowl  of  por- 
ridge and  milk,  or  a  huge  slice  of  bread  and  butter. 
At  first  he  was  not  a  little  afraid  of  Crazy  Colin. 
But  soon  he  got  accustomed  to  him,  and  then,  boy- 
like, presuming  upon  acquaintance,  began  to  tease 
him  a  bit  when  he  would  come  in  for  a  ''bite  and 
sup."  More  than  once  the  idiot's  eyes  flashed  dan- 
gerously at  Bert's  pranks;  but,  fool  though  he  was,  he 
had  sense  enough  to  understand  that  anv  outbreak 
would  mean  his  prompt  expulsion  and  banishment, 
and  so  he  would  restrain  himself.     One  memorable 

E 


66 


BEUT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


day,  liowever,  when  Bert  least  expected  or  invited  ir, 
the  demon  of  insanity  broke  loose  in  a  manner  that 
might  have  had  serious  consequences. 

It  was  on  a  Sundav.  The  whole  faniilv  had  irune 
off  to  church,  except  Bert,  who  had  been  left  at  hoiiie 
in  the  charge  of  the  cook.  She  was  a  strapping  big 
Scotch  lassie,  and  very  fond  of  Bert.  About  an  hour 
after  the  family  left.  Crazy  Colin  sauntered  along  and 
took  his  seat  in  the  kitchen.  Neither  Kitty  nor  Bert 
was  by  any  means  pleased  to  see  him,  but  they 
thought  it  better  to  keep  their  feelings  to  themselves. 
Bert,  indeed,  made  some  effort  to  be  entertaining,  but 
Crazv  Colin  seemed  in  rather  a  sulkv  mood,  an  uii- 
usual  thing  for  him,  so  Bert  soon  gave  it  up,  and 
went  off  into  the  garden. 

The  roses  were  blooming  beautifully  there,  and  he 
picked  several  before  returning  to  the  kitchen.  When 
he  came  back,  he  found  the  unwelcome  visitor  alone, 
Kitty  having  gone  into  the  other  part  of  the  house. 
He  was  sittintj  beside  the  table  with  his  head  bent 
forward  upon  his  hands,  apparently  in  de'^p  dejection. 
Upon  the  table  was  a  large  knife  which  Kitty  had 
just  been  using  in  preparing  the  meat  for  dinner. 
Thinking  it  would  please  poor  Colin,  Bert  selected 
the  finest  rose  in  his  bunch  and  handed  it  to  him, 
moving  off  toward  the  door  leading  into  the  hall  as 
he  did  so.  Colin  lifted  his  head  and  grasped  the  rose 
rudely.  As  his  big  hand  closed  upon  it,  a  thorn  that 
hid  under  the  white  petals  pierced  deep  into  the  ball 


BERT   LLOYDS   BOYHOOD. 


er 


of  his  thumb.  In  an  instant  the  sleeping  demon  of 
iiisanitv  awoke.  With  eves  blazintj  ami  frame  trem- 
biiiiir  ^vitil  fury,  he  sprang  to  his  feet,  seized  the  knife, 
and  witii  a  hoarse,  inariicnlate  shout,  turned  upon 
Jieri,  who,  paralyzed  with  terror,  stood  rooted  to  tiie 
spot  iialf-way  between  the  idiot  and  the  door.  It 
was  a  moment  of  imminent  peril,  but  ere  Crazy 
Colin  could  reach  the  bov,  liis  hoarse  crv  was 
echoed  bv  a  shrill  shriek  from  behind  Bert,  and  two 
stout  arms  encircling  him,  bore  him  oft'  through  the 
door  and  up  the  stairs,  pausing  not  until  'Squire 
Stewart's  bedroom  was  gained  and  the  door  locked 
fast.  Tiien  depositing  her  burden  upon  the  floor, 
bravo,  big  Kitty  threw  herself  into  a  chair,  exclaim- 
iiiir,  breathlesslv: 

'"Thank  God,  Master  Bert,  we're  safe  now.  The 
crrature  darsen't  come  up  those  stairs.*' 

And  Kitty  was  right;  for  although  Crazy  Colin 
r;i<;ed  and  stormed  uj)  and  down  the  hall,  striking 
the  wall  with  the  knife,  and  talking  in  his  wild,  un- 
intelligible way,  he  did  not  attempt  to  set  foot  uj»on 
the  stairs.     Presently  he  became  perfectly  quiet. 

"Has  he  gone  away,  Kitty?"  asked  Bert,  eagerly, 
speaking  for  the  first  time.  "He's  not  making  any 
noise  now." 

Kitty  stepped  softly  to  the  door,  and  putting  her 
ear  to  the  crack,  listened  iutentlv  for  a  minute. 

"There's  not  a  sound  of  him.  Master  Bert.  Please, 
God,  he's  gone,  but  we  hadn't  better  go  out  of  the 


68 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


'I 


room  until  the  folks  come  home.     He  may  be  wait- 
ing in  the  kitciien." 

And  so  they  stayetl,  keoping  one  another  company 
through  the  long  hours  of  the  morning  and  afternoon 
until  at  lasjt  the  welcome  sound  of  wheels  crushing 
the  gravel  told  that  the  carriage  had  returned,  autl 
they  might  leave  their  refuge. 

The  indignation  of  'Squire  Stewart  when  he  hoard 
what  had  occurred  was  a  sight  to  behold.  Sunday 
though  it  was,  he  burst  forth  into  an  unrestrained 
display  of  his  wrath,  and  had  the  cause  of  it  ven- 
tured along  at  the  time,  he  certainly  would  have  been 
in  danger  of  bodily  injury. 

"The  miserable  trash!"  stormed  the 'squire.  "Not 
one  of  them  shall  ever  darken  my  threshold  again. 
Hech !  that's  what  comes  of  being  kind  to  such  ob- 
jects. They  take  you  to  be  as  big  fools  as  them- 
selves, and  act  accordingly.  The  constable  shall  lay 
his  grip  on  that  loon  so  sure  as  I  am  a  Stewart." 

There  were  more  reasons  for  the  'squire's  wrath,  too, 
than  the  fright  Crazy  Colin  had  given  Bert  and 
Kitty,  for  no  dinner  awaited  the  hungry  church- 
goers, and  rejoiced  as  they  all  were  at  the  happy  es- 
cape of  the  two  who  had  been  left  at  home,  tliat  was 
in  itself  an  insufficient  substitute  for  a  warm,  well- 
cooked  dinner.  But  Kittv,  of  course,  could  not  be 
blamed,  and  there  was  nothing  to  be  done  but  to  make 
the  best  of  the  situation,  and  satisfy  their  hunger  upon 
Buch  odds  and  ends  as  the  larder  afforded. 


BERT  mx)Yd's  boyhood. 


69 


A«  for  poor  Crazy  Colin,  wlietlier  hy  some  sul)tle 
iiistiiict  on  coming  to  liiniJ^elf  he  realized  iiow  ijravely 
lie  liad  offended,  or  '.vlietlier  in  some  nay  or  other  he 
got  a  hint  of  the  's(piire'.s  tiweats,  cannot  be  .said. 
Certain  it  was,  that  lie  did  not  present  himself  at 
Maplchank  for  many  days  after,  and  then  he  came 
under  einuinistances,  which  not  only  seonred  him  com- 
])lete  forgiveness,  but  made  him  an  actnal  hero,  for 
the  time,  and  won  him  a  big  place  in  the  hearts  of 
both  I'ert  and  his  mother. 

Although  Bert  liad  been  forbidden  to  leave  the 
homestead,  nnless  in  company  with  some  grown-up 
person,  he  had  on  several  occasions  forgotten  this  in- 
junction, in  the  ardor  of  his  play,  but  never  so  com- 
pletely as  on  the  day  that,  tempted  by  Charlie  Chis- 
lioliii,  the  most  reckless,  daring  youngster  in  the 
neighborhood,  he  went  away  oif  into  the  back-lands, 
as  the  woods  beyond  the  hill  pasture  were  called,  in 
.search  of  an  eagle's  nest,  which  the  unveracious 
Charlie  assured  hira  was  to  be  seen  high  up  in  a  cer- 
tain dead  monarch  of  the  forest. 

It  was  a  beautiful  afternoon,  toward  the  end  of 
Autrust,  when  Bert,  his  imasrination  fired  bv  the 
tliouffht  of  obtaining  a  voung  eaujle,  Charlie  havinir 
assured  him  that  this  was  entirely  possible,  broke 
tlirough  all  restraints,  and  went  off  with  his  tempter. 
Unseen  by  any  of  the  household,  as  it  happened,  they 
passed  through  the  milk  yard,  climbed  the  hill, 
hastened  across  the  pasture,  dotted  with  the  feeding 


70 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


cows,  and  soon  were  lost  to  sight  in  the  woods  that 
fringed  the  line  of  settlement  on  botli  sides  of  tlie 
valley,  and  farther  on  widened  into  tiie  great  forest 
that  was  traversed  only  by  the  woodsman  and  tiie 
h»n  tcr. 

On  and  on  they  went,  until  at  length  Bert  was 
tired  out.  "Aren't  we  far  enongii  now,  Charlie?'' 
he  asked,  plaintively,  throwing  himself  down  upon  a 
fallen  tree  to  rest  a  little. 

"Not  quite,  Bert;  but  we'll  soon  be,"  answered 
Charlie.  "  Let's  take  a  rest,  and  then  go  ahead,"  he 
added,  following  Bert's  example. 

Having  rested  a  few   minutes,  Charlie  sprang  up 


savmg 


Come  along,  Bert ;  or  we'll  never  get  there."  And 
somewhat  relnctantlv  the  latter  obeved.  Deeper  niui 
deeper  into  the  forest  they  made  their  way,  Chailif 
going  ahead  confidently,  and  Bert  following  doubt- 
fully; for  he  was  already  beginning  to  repent  of  his 
rashness,  and  wish  that  he  was  home  again. 

Presentlv  Charlie  showed  signs  of  being  uncertain 
as  to  the  right  route.  He  would  turn  first  to  the 
right  and  then  to  the  left,  peering  eagerly  ahead,  as  if 
hoping  to  come  upon  the  big  dead  tree  at  any  monu>nt. 
Finally  he  stopped  altogether. 

"  See  here,  Bert ;  I  guess  we're  on  the  wrong  track," 
said  he,  coolly.  "  I've  missed  the  tree  somehow,  and 
it's  getting  late,  so  we'd  better  make  for  home.  AVVll 
liave  a  try  some  other  day." 


BERT   LLOYD  S    BOYHOOD. 


71 


Poor  little  Bert,  by  this  time  thoroughly  wenry, 
was  only  too  glad  to  turn  homeward,  and  the  relief 
at  (loi'"r  this  gave  hiiu  new  strength  for  a  while.  But 
it  did  not  last  very  long,  and  soon,  footsore  and  ex- 
hausted, he  dropped  down  upon  a  bank  of  moss,  and 
bur.st  into  tears. 

"Oh,  Charlie,  I  wish  we  were  home,"  he  sobbed. 
"I'm  so  t'red,  and  hungry,  too." 

Charlie  did  not  know  just  what  to  do.  It  was 
iretiing  on  toward  sundown;  he  had  quite  lost  his 
wav,  and  might  be  a  good  while  finding  it  again,  and 
he  felt  pretty  well  tired  himself.  But  he  put  on  a 
brave  face  and  tried  to  be  very  cheerful,  as  he  said: 

'•Don't  cry,  Bert.  Cheer  up,  my  boy,  and  we'll 
soon  get  home." 

It  was  all  very  well  to  say  "cheer  up,"  but  it  was 
another  thing  to  do  it.  As  for  getting  home  soon, 
if  there  were  no  other  way  for  Bert  to  get  home  than 
bv  walkini;  the  whole  wav,  there  was  little  chance  of 
his  sleeping  in  his  own  bed  that  night. 

How  thoroughly  miserable  he  did  feel !  His  con- 
science, his  legs,  and  his  stomach  were  all  paining  him 
at  once.  He  binerly  repented  of  his  disobedience, 
and  vowed  he  would  never  err  in  tiie  same  wav  atrain. 
But  that,  while  it  vas  all  very  right  and  proper,  did 
not  help  him  homeward. 

At  length  Charlie  grew  desperate.  He  had  no 
idea  of  spending  the  night  in  die  woods  if  he  could 
possibly  help  it,  so  he  proposed  a  plan  to  Bei-t : 


72 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


"See  liere,  Bert,"  said  he,  "you're  too  played  out 
to  walk  anv  more.  Now,  I'll  tell  vou  what  I'll  do. 
I'll  run  home  as  fast  as  I  can,  and  saddle  the  old 
mare  and  bring  her  here,  and  then  we'll  ride  back 
again  together.     Wlnt  do  you  say  ?" 

"Oil,  don't  leave  me  here  ale oe?"  pleaded  Bert. 
"I'll   be  awfully  fricrhtened." 

"Chut!  Bert.  Tiiere's  nothinsr  to  friditen  vou 
but  some  old  crows.  Stay  just  where  you  are,  and 
I'll  be  back  inside  of  an  hour."  And  without  wait- 
ing to  argue  the  point,  Ciiarlie  dashed  off  into  ilie 
woods  in  the  direction  he  thought  nearest  home; 
while  Bert,  after  crying  out  in  vain  for  him  to  come 
back,  buried  his  face  in  the  moss  and  gave  himself 
lip  to  tears. 

One  hour,  two  hours,  three  hours  passed,  and  still 
Bert  was  alone.  The  sun  had  set,  the  trloaminsi:  well- 
nigh  passed,  and  the  shadows  of  night  drew  near. 
All  kinds  of  queer  ,ioises  fell  upon  his  ear,  filling 
him  with  acute  terror.  He  dared  not  move  from  the 
spot  upon  wliich  Charlie  had  left  him,  but  sat  there, 
crouched  up  close  against  a  tree,  trembling  with  fear 
in  every  nerve.  At  intervals  he  would  break  out 
into  vehement  crying,  and  then  he  M'ould  be  silent 
again.  Presently  the  darkness  enveloped  him,  and 
still  no  succor  came. 

Meantime,  there  had  ^een  much  anxiety  at  Maple- 
bank.  On  Bert's  being  missed,  diligent  inquiry  was 
made  as  to  his  whereabouts,  and  at  length,  atter  much 


BERT  LLOYDS   BOi'HOOD. 


73 


qiieslioning,  some  one  was  found  who  had  seen  him 
in  company  witli  Charlie  Ciiisholm,  going  up  through 
the  hill  pastiu'e  toward  the  woods.  When  Mrs. 
Llovd  heard  wiio  his  companion  was,  lier  anxiety  in- 
creased, for  siie  well  knew  M'hat  a  recikless,  adventur- 
ous little  fell'  Charlie  was,  and  she  determined  that 
eearch  sl^idd  be  made  for  the  boys  at  once.  But  in 
this  she  was  delaved  bv  Uncle  Alec  and  the  men 
beiiK'  off  at  a  distant'  and  not  returning  until  supper 
time.  So  soon  as  they  did  get  back,  ami  heard  of 
Bert's  disappearance,  they  swallowed  their  sup])er, 
and  all  started  w  i;li  nit  delay  to  hunt  him  up. 

The  dusk  hu<i  come  before  the  men — headed  by 
Uncle  Alec,  and  followed,  as  far  as  the  foot  of  the 
hill,  by  the  old  'squire — got  well  started  on  their 
search;  but  they  were  half  a  dozen  in  number,  and 
all  knew  the  country  pretty  well,  so  that  the  prospect 
of  their  finding  the  lost  boy  soon  seemed  bright 
enontih. 

Yet  the  dusk  deepened  into  darkness,  and  hour 
after  hour  passed — hours  of  intense  anxiety  and 
earnest  prayer  on  the  part  of  the  mother  and  others 
at  Maplebank — without  any  token  of  success. 

^[rs.  Lloyd  was  not  naturally  a  nervous  woman, 
but  who  could  blame  her  if  her  feelings  refused  con- 
trol when  her  darling  boy  was  thus  exposed  to  dangers^ 
the  extent  of  which  none  cculd  tell. 

The  'squire  did  his  best  to  cheer  her  in  his  bluff, 
bliuit  way : 


74 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


*'  Tilt !  tut  I  Kate.  Don't  worry  so.  The  ciiilcl's 
just  fallen  asleep  somewhere.  He'll  be  found  as  soon 
as  it's  light.  There's  nothing  to  harm  him  in  those 
woods." 

Mrs.  Lloyd  tried  hard  to  persuade  herself  that  there 
wasn't,  but  all  kinds  of  vague  terrors  filled  her  mind, 
and  refused  to  be  allayed. 

At  length,  as  it  drew  toward  midnight,  a  step  was 
heard  approaching,  and  the  anxious  watchers  rushed 
eagerly  to  the  door,  hoping  for  gr'od  news.  But  it 
was  only  one  of  the  men,  returning  according  to 
arrangement  to  see  if  Bert  liad  been  found,  and  if  not 
to  set  forth  again  along  some  new  line  of  search. 
After  a  little  interval  another  came,  and  then  another, 
until  all  had  returned,  Uncle  Alec  being  the  last,  and 
still  no  news  of  Bert. 

Thev  were  bidden  to  take  some  rest  and  refreshment 
before  going  back  into  the  woods.  While  they  were 
sitting  in  the  kitchen.  Uncle  Alec,  who  was  exceedingly 
fond  of  Bert,  and  felt  more  concerned  about  him  than 
lie  cared  to  show,  having  no  appetite  for  food,  went 
oif  toward  the  red  gate  with  no  definite  purpose  ex- 
cept that  he  could  not  keep  still. 

Presently  the  still  midnight  air  was  started  with  a 
lovful  "  Hurrah ! "  followed  close  bv  a  shout  of  "  Be n's 
all  right — he's  here,"  that  brought  the  people  in  the 
house  tumbling  pell  mell  again?'  each  other  in  their 
haste  to  reach  the  door  and  see  what  it  all  meant. 

The  light  from  the  kitchen  streamed  out  upon  the 


BERT   LLOYD  S    BOYHOOD. 


7$ 


road,  making  a  broad  luminous  path,  up  which  the 
next  moment  strode  Crazy  Colin,  bearing  Bert  high 
upon  iiis  broad  shoulders,  while  liis  swarthy  counte- 
nance fairly  shone  with  a  smile  of  pride  and  satisfaction 
that  clearlv  showv^d  he  ditl  not  need  Uncle  Alec's  en- 
thusiastic  clappings  on  the  back,  and  hearty  "  Well 
done,  Colin  !  You  're  a  trump !  "  to  make  him  under- 
stand the  importance  of  what  he  had  done. 

The  two  were  at  once  surrounded  bv  the  over-ioved 
family.  After  giving  her  darling  one  passionate  hug, 
Mrs.  Llovd  took  both  of  CrazvColin's  hands  in  her's, 
and  looking  up  into  his  beaming  face,  said,  with  a  deep 
sincerity  even  his  dull  brain  could  not  fail  to  ap- 
preciate: ''God  bless  you,  Colin.  I  cannot  thank 
you  enough,  but  I'll  be  your  friend  for  life  ;  "  while 
the  's(piire,  having  blown  his  nose  very  vigor- 
ously on  his  red  silk  handkerchief,  grasped  Colin 
by  the  arm,  dragged  him  into  the  house,  and  ordered 
that  the  best  the  larder  could  produce  should  be  j)laced 
before  him  at  once.  It  was  a  ha{)py  scene,  and  no  one 
enjoyed  it  more  than  did  Crazy  Colin  himself. 

The  exact  details  of  the  rescue  of  Bert  were  never 
fully  ascertained  ;  for,  of  course,  poor  Colin  could  not 
make  them  known,  his  range  of  expression  being 
limited  to  his  mere  personal  wants,  and  Bert  himself 
bcinsjable  to  tell  no  more  than  that  while  Jvinij  at  the 
foot  of  the  tree,  and  crying  pretty  vigorously,  he  heard 
a  rustling  among  the  trees  that  sent  a  chill  of  terror 
through  him,  and   then  the  sound  of  Crazy  Coliu's 


76 


BERT  LLOYD  S    BOYHOOD. 


talk  witli  liimself,  which  he  recognized  instantly. 
Forgetting  all  about  the  fright  Colin  had  given  him  a 
few  days  before,  he  shouted  out  his  name.  Colin  came 
to  liini  at  once,  and  seeming  to  understand  the  situa- 
tion at  a  glance,  picked  him  up  in  his  strong  arms, 
flung  him  over  liis  shoulder,  and  strode  off  toward 
Maplebank  with  liim  as  thougli  he  were  a  mere 
feather-weio-ht  and  not  a  sturdv  bov.  Dark  as  it  was, 
Colin  never  hesitated,  nor  paused,  except  now  and  then 
to  rest  a  moment,  until  he  reached  the  red  gate  where 
Uncle  Alec  met  him,  and  welcomed  him  so  warmly. 

Mrs.  Llovd  did  not  think  it  M'ise  nor  necessary  to 
say  very  much  to  Bert  about  his  disobedience.  If 
ever  there  was  a  contrite,  humbled  boy,  it  was  he.  He 
had  learned  a  lesson  that  he  would  be  Ions;  in  forget- 
ting.  As  for  his  tempter,  Ciiarlie  Chisholm,  he  did 
not  turn  up  until  the  next  morning,  having  lost  him- 
self completely  in  his  endeavor  to  get  home ;  and  it 
was  only  after  many  hours  of  wandering,  he  found  his 
way  to  an  outlying  cabin  of  the  backwoods  settlement, 
where  he  was  given  shelter  for  the  night. 


CHAPTER  X. 


BERT   GOES  TO  SCHOOL. 


WITH  the  waning  of  summer  came  the  time  for 
Mrs.  Lloyd  to  return  to  the  citv.  Both  she 
and  Bert  felt  very  sorry  to  leave  Maplebank,  and  the 
family  tliere  was  unanimous  in  seeking  to  persuade 
her  to  allow  Bert  to  remain  for  the  winter.  But  tliis 
was  not  practicable,  because,  in  the  first  place,  Mr. 
Lli)yd  had  been  writing  to  say  that  he  was  quite  tired 
of  being  without  his  boy,  and  would  like  to  have  him 
back  again  as  soon  as  was  convenient;  and,  in  the 
second  place,  Bert  had  reached  tlie  age  when  he  ought 
to  begin  his  schooling,  and  must  return  home  for  that 
purpose. 

So  at  length,  after  more  than  one  postponement,  the 
(lay  of  departure  arrived.  Grandmother  and  Aunt 
^lartha,  and  Aunt  Sarah,  could  not  restrain  their 
tears,  and  big,  kind  Kitty  was  among  the  mourners, 
too,  as  Bert  and  his  mother  took  their  seats  in  the 
double  wagon  beside  the  'squire  and  Uncle  Alec,  to 
drive  in  to  the  village  where  the  coach  would  be  met. 

AVitli  many  a  promise  to  come  back  ere  very  long, 
and  many  a  fond  "Good-bve!  God  bless  you,  my 
darling!"  the  travelers  started  on  their  homeward 
journey.     The  village  was  reached  in  good  time,  tiie 


78 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


coach  found  awaiting  its  passengers,  the  trunks  safely 
stowed  behind,  the  last  good-bye  to  grandfather  and 
Uncle  Alec  said,  and  then,  amid  cracking  of  whips 
and  waving  of  handkerchiefs,  the  big  coach  rolle<l 
grandly  oH',  and  Bert  had  really  parted  with  dear, 
delightful  Maplebank,  where  he  had  spent  such  a 
happy  summer. 

The  homeward  journey  was  a  very  pleasant  one, 
and  marked  by  no  exciting  incidents.  Jack  Davis 
was  in  his  place  on  the  box,  and,  recognizing  lieit 
when  the  passengers  got  out  at  the  first  change  of 
horses,  hailed  him  with  a  hearty :  "  Hullo,  youngster ! 
Are  you  on  board?  Would  you  like  to  come  up  on 
top  with  me  again?" 

It  need  hardly  be  said  that  Bert  jumped  at  the 
invitation,  and,  his  mother  giving  her  consent,  he  rode 
on  the  box  seat  beside  Davis  the  greater  part  of  the 
day  as  happy  as  a  bird.  The  weather  was  perfect, 
it  being  a  cool,  bright  day  in  early  September,  and 
Bert  enjoyed  very  much  recognizing  and  recalling  the 
different  things  that  had  particularly  interested  him 
on  the  way  down.  "  Black  Rory "  was  as  lively  as 
ever,  and  seemed  determined  to  run  away  and  dash 
everything  to  pieces  as  they  started  out  from  his 
stable,  but  calmed  down  again  after  a  mile  or  two,  as 
usual,  and  trotted  along  amiably  enough  the  rest  of 
his  distance. 

It  happened  that  Davis  had  no  one  on  the  outside 
with  whom  he  cared  to  talk,  so  he  gave  a  good  (hal 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


79 


of  attention  to  Bert,  telling  him  about  the  horses  and 
their  peculiarities,  and  how  they  were  in  so  many 
ways  just  like  people,  and  had  to  be  humored  some- 
times, and  sometir.ies  punished,  and  how  it  was,  upon 
the  Asliule,  so  uuieh  better  to  be  kind  than  cruel  to 
tiicm. 

"  If  your  father  ever  lets  you  have  a  pony,  Bert," 
said  Davis,  "take  my  word  for  it  it'll  pay  you  to 
treat  that  ere  pony  like  a  brother.  Just  let  him  know 
you're  fond  of  him  from  the  start;  give  him  a  lump 
of  sugar  or  a  crust  of  bread  now  and  then, — it's  won- 
derful how  fond  horses  are  of  such  things, — and  he'll 
fulhnv  you  about  just  like  a  dog.  Horses  have  got  a 
o(jod  (leal  more  human  nature  in  'em  than  folks 
generally  give  'em  credit  for,  I  can  tell  ou,  and  I 
think  I  know  what  I'm  talking  about,  for  I've  had  to 
do  with  them  ever  since  I've  been  as  big  as  you." 

Bert  listened  to  this  lecture  with  very  lively  inter- 
est, fur  his  father  had  more  than  once  hinted  at  getting 
him  a  pony  some  day  if  he  were  a  good  boy,  and 
sliowed  he  could  be  trusted  with  one.  He  confided 
his  hopes  to  his  friend,  and  received  in  return  fo»*  the 
eontidenee  a  lot  more  of  good  advice,  which  need  not 
he  repeated  here. 

The  sun  was  setting  as  tne  coach  drove  up  to  the 
hotel  at  Thurso,  where  Mrs.  Lloyd  and  Bert  were  to 
remain  for  the  night,  taking  the  train  for  Halifax  the 
next  morning.  Bert  felt  quite  sorry  at  jiarting  with 
liis  big  friend,  the  driver,  and  very  gladly  promised 


80 


BERT   LLOYDS    BOYHOOD. 


him  that  the  next  time  lie  was  going  to  Maplebauk  lie 
would  try  to  manage  so  as  to  be  going  down  on  Jack 
Davis'  day  that  their  friendship  might  be  renewed. 

Both  Bert  and  his  mother  were  very  glad  to  g(!t  to 
bed  that  night.  Coaehing  is  fine  fun  in  fine  weather, 
but  it  is  fatiguing,  nevertheless.  You  cannot  ride  ail 
day  in  a  coach  without  more  or  less  backache,  and 
Bert  was  so  sleepy  that,  but  for  his  mother  preventing 
him,  ho  would  have  flung  himself  upon  his  bed  witii- 
out  so  much  as  taking  off  his  boots.  He  managed  to 
undress  all  right  enough,  however,  and  then  slept  like 
a  top  until  next  morning. 

Bright  and  early  they  took  the  train,  and  by  mid- 
day were  at  Halifax,  where  Mr.  Lloyd  and  ^lary 
received  them  with  oi)en  arms  and  many  a  glad  kiss. 

After  allowing  him  a  few  days  to  settle  down  to 
home  life  again,  the  question  of  Beit's  going  to  school 
was  raised.  He  was  now  full  eight  years  of  age,  and 
quite  old  enough  to  make  a  beginning.  His  mother 
and  sister  had  between  them  given  him  a  good  start 
in  the  "three  R's"  at  home,  for  he  was  an  apt  pupil, 
and  he  was  quite  ready  to  enter  a  larger  sphere. 

At  fii'st  his  parents  were  somewhat  undecided  as  to 
whether  they  would  send  him  to  a  school  presided 
over  by  a  woman  or  a  man.  It  was  usual  in  Halifax 
for  those  who  preferred  the  private  to  the  puhlic 
schools  to  send  their  boys  for  a  year  or  two  to  a 
dame's  school  as  a  sort  of  easy  introduction  to  school 
life ;  and  in  the  very  same  street  as  that  in  which  the 


BERT    LLOYD  S    BOYHOOD. 


81 


Llovtls  lived  there  was  siicli  a  school  where  two  rather 
gaunt  and  i^rini  old-iiuiid  sisters  aided  one  another  in 
tlie  applieation  of  primer  and  taws.  To  this  institu- 
tion Mrs.  Llo}d  thought  it  would  be  well  for  Bert  to 
go.  I  lis  father  had  no  very  decided  views  to  the 
contrary,  but  on  Bert  him.self  being  consulted,  it 
became  very  clear  that  his  mind  was  quite  made  up. 

"Please  don't  send  me  to  'Old  Goggles'  school, 
fiulur,"  pleaded  he,  earnestly. 

'"Old  Goggles  !'  Why,  Bert,  what  do  you  mean 
by  calling  ^liss  Poster  by  such  a  name  as  that?" 

"It's  most  disrespectful,"  interrupted  his  mother, 
■with  a  very  much  shocked  expression,  while  INIr. 
Lloyd  tried  hard,  but  unsuccessfully,  to  conceal  a 
smile  beneath  his  moustache. 

"Well,  mother,  that's  what  they  all  call  her,"  ex- 
plained Bert. 

"Even  though  they  do,  Bert,  you  should  not. 
^[iss  Poster  is  a  lady,  and  you  must  act  the  gentleman 
toward  her,"  replied  Mrs.  Lloyd.  "  But  why  don't 
you  want  to  go  to  school  there  ?  Several  boys  about 
your  own  age  are  going." 

"Oh,  because  a  lot  of  girls  go  there,  and  I  don't 
want  to  go  to  school  with  girls,"  was  Master  Bert's 
ungallant  reply. 

^Ir.  Lloyd,  who  had  evidently  been  much  amused 
at  the  conversation,  now  joined  in  it  by  drawing  Bert 
toward  him  and  asking,  in  a  half-serious,  half-humor- 
ous tone : 


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Sciences 
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23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


82 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


"  Is  my  boy  Bert  afraid  of  little  girls  ?  " 

Bert's  face  fluslied  till  it  was  crimsou,  aud  dropping 
his  head  upon  his  breast,  he  muttered  : 

"  I'm  not  afraid  of  them,  but  I  don't  like  'era,  and 
I  don't  want  to  go  to  school  with  'em." 

The  fact  of  the  matter  was  that  Bert  not  only  had 
his  full  share  of  the  repugnance  to  tlie  other  sex  com- 
mon tc  all  boys  of  his  age,  but  he  had  besides  a  strong 
notion  tliat  it  was  not  a  manly  thing  to  go  to  :  'hoo\ 
with  girls,  and  if  there  Was  one  thing  more  than  an- 
other that  he  aspired  after,  it  was  manliness. 

Mr.  Lloyd  thoroughly  understood  his  son's  feelings, 
and  felt  disposed  to  humor  them.  Accordingly,  lifting 
up  his  head,  he  gave  him  a  kiss  on  the  forehead,  saying: 

"  Very  well,  Bert ;  we'll  see  about  it.  Since  you 
have  such  decided  objections  to  Miss  Goggles' — I  beg 
her  ])ardon.  Miss  Poster's — excellent  establishment,  I 
will  make  inquiry,  and  see  if  I  cannot  find  something 
that  will  suit  you  better.  I  want  you  to  like  your 
school,  and  to  take  an  interest  in  it." 

Bert's  face  fairly  beamed  at  these  words,  ami  he 
heaved  a  huge  sigh  of  relief  which  brought  another 
smile  out  on  his  father's  countenance. 

"You're  such  a  good  father,"  said  Bert,  hugging  his 
knees,  and  there  the  matter  dropped  for  a  few  days. 

When  it  came  up  again,  Mr.  Lloyd  had  a  new  propo- 
sition to  make.  In  the  interval  he  had  been  making 
some  inquiries,  and  had  been  recommended  to  send  his 
boy  to  a  school  just  lately  established  by  an  accom- 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


83 


plished  young  lawyer,  who  had  adopted  that  method 
ofeariiinu:  an  honest  penny  while  waitiiiu^  for  his  pmc- 
iKv  It)  Uc'onie  more  lucrative.  It  was  a  gotnl  deal 
ui  an  expeiinieut,  Mr.  Lloyd  thought,  but  fv^.^jihly 
worth  trvinsr. 

Accordingly,  one  fine  morning  in  October,  b<^hold 
Masicr  Bci't  in  a  rather  perturbed  frame  of  mind 
t.otting  along  beside  his  father,  who  pretended  not  to 
he  aware  of  his  son's  feelings,  although  at  the  same 
time  .seekinijr  in  everv  wav  to  divert  him.  But  it  was  not 
witli  much  success.  Bert  felt  thoroughly  nervous  over 
tiio  new  experience  that  awaited  him.  He  had  never 
.seen  Mr.  Garrison,  who  was  to  be  his  teacher,  and 
imagined  him  as  a  tall,  thin  man  with  a  long  beard,  a 
stern  face,  a  harsh  voice,  and  an  ever-ready  "cat-o'-nine 
tails."  As  for  his  future  schoolmates,  thev  were  no 
doubt  a  lot  of  rough,  noisy  chaps,  that  would  be  certain 
to  "  put  him  through  a  course  of  sprouts"  before  they 
would  make  friends  with  him. 

If,  then,  such  thoughts  as  these  filled  Bert's  mind, 
it  must  not  l)e  wondered  at  that  he  lagged  a  good  deal 
1)1  »th  as  to  his  talking  and  walking,  although  he  waa 
always  spry  enough  with  both  when  out  with  his 
father.  Much  sooner  than  he  wished  thev  reached  the 
huilding,  a  large  rambling  stone  structure,  only  one 
rouiu  of  which  was  occupied  by  the  school ;  they 
clirbed  the  broad  free-stoue  staircase  to  the  upper 
story,  knocked  at  a  door  from  behind  which  came  a 
coufused  hum  of  voices,  and  being  bidden  "  Come  in," 


1" 


84 


BERT  LLOYD  8   BOYHOOD. 


entered  a  big  room  that  at  first  seemed  to  Bert  to  be 
completely  filled  by  a  misty  sea  of  faces  with  every 
eye  turned  right  upon  him.  He  cowered  before  this 
curious  scrutiny,  and  but  for  his  father's  restraining 
grasp  would  probably  have  attempted  a  wild  dash  for 
the  still  unclosed  door,  when  he  heard  his  father 
saying: 

"Good-morning,  Mr.  Garrison  ;  I  have  brought  my 
boy  to  place  him  in  your  care  for  a  wiiile,  if  you  will 
have  him  as  a  pupil."  Looking  up,  Bert  beheld  a 
person  approaching  very  different  from  the  selioul- 
master  of  his  gloomy  anticipations. 

Mr.  Garrison  was  indeed  tall,  but  there  the  siiui- 
laritv  ended.  He  was  vouthful,  sli":ht,  and  verv  at- 
tractive  in  appearance,  his  manner  being  exceedingly 
graceful  and  easy,  as  he  came  forward  with  a  winning 
smile  upon  his  countenance,  and  extending  his  right 
hand  to  Mr.  Lloyd,  placed  the  other  upon  Bert's 
shoulder,  and  said,  in  a  mellow,  pleasant  voice : 

"  Good-morning,  Mr.  liloyd.  I  shall  be  very  glad 
indeed  to  have  your  boy  in  my  shool,  and  if  lie  is 
anything  like  as  good  a  man  as  his  father,  he  will 
make  one  of  my  very  best  pupils." 

Mr.  Llovd  laughed  heartilv  at  this  flattering  re- 
mark. 

"  Listen  to  that,  Bert,"  said  he.  "  When  you  are 
in  any  doubt  just  how  to  behave,  you  have  only  to 
ask  vourself  what  I  would  do  under  the  same  circura- 
stances,  and  act  accordingly."     Then,  turning  to  Mr. 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


85 


U 


Garrison,  he  said :  "  Perhaps  you  would  like  me  to 
join  your  school,  too,  so  as  to  set  a  good  example  to 
tlie  other  boys." 

"  Riglit  glad  would  I  be  to  have  you,  Mr.  Lloyd," 
answered  Mr.  Garrison,  with  a  cordial  smile.  "  Many 
a  time  I  find  ray  boys  almost  too  much  for  one  man 
to  handle." 

Bert,  clinging  fast  to  his  father's  hand,  and  half- 
hoping  he  was  in  earnest,  felt  a  pang  of  disappoint- 
ment when  he  replie<l : 

"  I'm  afraid  it's  too  late,  Mr.  Garrison.  My  school- 
days are  past;  except  so  far  as  I  may  be  able  to  live 
them  over  with  this  little  chap  here.  I  will  leave 
him  with  vou  now  ;  do  vour  best  with  him.  He  can 
karn  well  enough  when  he  likes,  but  he  is  just  as 
fond  of  fun  as  any  youngster  of  his  age."  Thengiv- 
inir  Bert  an  affectionate  pat  on  the  shoulder,  and 
whispering  in  his  ear  "  Now,  be  a  man,  Bert,"  Mr. 
Lloyd  went  away,  and  Bert  followed  Mr.  Garrison  up 
to  the  desk,  where  his  name,  age,  and  address  were 
diilv  entered  in  the  res^cister  book. 

The  next  business  was  to  assign  him  a  seat.  A  few 
qiic.>tiu!is  as  to  what  he  knew  showed  that  his  proper 
})lace  was  in  the  junior  class  of  all,  and  there  accord- 
ingly ^Iv.  Garrison  led  him.  A  vacancy  was  found 
for  him  in  a  long  range  of  seats,  extending  from  the 
door  almost  up  to  the  desk,  and  he  was  bidden  sit 
down  beside  a  boy  who  had  been  eying  him  with 
lively  curiosity,  from  the  moment  of  his  entrance  into 


86 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


i 

f 

1 

[ 

■ 

'il 

% 

;! 

j 

'"■"  ','■■   ■  ■ 

if 

tl>e  room.     So  soon  as  Mr.  Garrison  went  away,  this 
boy  opened  fire  upon  tl»e  new  comer. 

" Say,  sonny,  what's  yer  name?"  he  asked,  with 
unliesitating  abruptness. 

Bert  looked  the  questioner  all  over  before  replyiiiir. 
He  was  a  short,  stout,  stubble-haired  chap,  evidently 
a  year  or  two  older  than  himself,  with  a  broad,  good- 
humored  face,  and  the  inspection  being,  upon  tlie 
whole,  satisfactory,  Bert  replied,  very  pleasantly: 

"Bert  Llovd — and    what's   vours?" 

Ignoring  the  question  put  to  him,  the  other  boy 
gave  a  sort  of  grunt  that  might  be  taken  as  an  ex- 
pression of  approval  of  his  new  schoolmate's  nam?, 
and  then  said : 

"Guess  von  don't  live  down  our  w;  v  ;  never  seen 
you  before,  that  I  know  of." 

"I  live  in  Fort  Street.  Where  do  vou  live?"  re- 
plied  Bert,  giving  question  for  question. 

"  I'm  a  Westender,"  said  the  other,  meaning  that 
his  home  was  in  tlie  western  part  of  the  city. 

"But  what's  your  name?"  asked  Bert  again. 

"  Oh,  my  name's  Frank  Bowser,"  was  the  careless 
reply.  "  But  everybody  calls  me  ^  Shorty,'  and  you 
may  as  well,  too." 

"All  right,"  said  Bert.  And  the  two  began  to  feel 
quite  good  friends  at  once. 

As  the  morning  passed,  and  Bert  came  to  feel  more 
at  home,  he  took  in  the  details  of  his  surroundings. 
Mr.  Garrispn's  school   consisted  of  some  fifty  boys, 


BERT   LLOYD  8   BOYHOOD. 


87 


ranging  in  age  from  sixteen  downward,  Bert  being 
about  ihe  youngest  of  tliera  all.  They  all  belonged 
to  tlie  better  class,  and  were,  upon  the  whole,  a  very  pre- 
sentable lot  of  pupils.  Scanning  their  countenances 
ouriou.rly  as  they  sat  at  their  desks  or  stood  up  in  rows 
1)0 fore  the  teacher  to  recite,  Bert  noticed  more  than 
ono  face  that  he  instinctively  liked,  and,  being  charmed 
'.vith  Mr.  Garrison,  and  well-pleased  with  his  new 
friend  "Siiorty,"  his  first  impressions  were  decidedly 
favorable. 

He  had,  of  course,  nothing  to  do  that  morning,  save 
to  look  about  him,  but  Mr.  Garrison  gave  him  a  list  of 
books  to  be  procured,  and  lessons  to  be  learned  in 
tlieni  before  the  school  broke  up  for  the  day;  and 
with  this  in  his  pocket  he  went  home  in  excellent 
spirits,  to  tell  them  all  there  how  well  he  had  got  on 
his  first  day  in  school.  ^ 


I 


I  ^11 


CHAPTER  XI. 

SCHOOL  LIFE  AT  MR.  GARRISON  *S. 

BERT  had  not  been  long  at  Mr.  Garrison's  school, 
before  he  discovered  tliat  it  was  conducted  on 
what  might  fairly  be  described  as  "go-as-you  plea-e" 
principles.  A  sad  lack  of  system  was  its  chief  char- 
acteristic. He  meant  well  enough  by  his  pupils,  ami 
was  constantly  makiug  spurts  in  the  direction  of 
reform  and  improvement,  but  as  often  falling  back 
into  the  old  irregular  ways. 

The  fact  of  the  matter  was  that  he  not  onlv  was 
not  a  schoolmaster  by  instinct,  but  he  had  no  intention 
of  being  one  by  profession.  He  had  simply  adopitd 
teaciiing  as  a  temporary  expedient  to  tide  over  a 
financial  emergency,  and  intended  to  drop  it  so  soon 
as  his  object  was  accomplished.  His  heart  was  in 
his  profession,  not  in  his  school,  and  the  woriv  of 
teaching  was  at  best  an  irksome  task,  to  be  gotten 
through  with  each  day  as  quickly  as  possible.  Had 
Mr.  Llovd  fullv  understood  this,  he  would  never  have 
placed  Bert  there.  But  he  did  not;  and,  moreover, 
he  was  interested  in  young  Mr.  Garrison,  who  had 
had  many  difficulties  to  encounter  in  making  his  way, 
and  he  wished  to  help  him. 

In  the  first  place,  Mr.  Garrison  kept  no  record  of 
88 


ri 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


89 


attendance,  either  of  tlie  whole  school,  or  of  the 
clitTerftDt  classes  into  which  it  was  divided.  A  boy 
might  come  in  an  hour  after  the  proi)er  time,  or  be 
awav  for  a  whole  dav  without  either  his  lateness  or  his 
absence  being  observed.  As  a  consequence  "  meeching" 
— that  is,  taking  a  holiday  without  leave  frcni  either 
parent?  or  teaciier — was  shamefully  common.  Indeed, 
there  was  hardly  a  day  that  one  or  more  boys  did  not 
*'  nieeclj."  U  by  any  chance  they  were  missed,  it 
was  easy  to  get  out  of  the  difficulty  by  making  some 
excuse  about  having  been  sick,  or  mother  having 
kept  them  at  home  to  do  some  work,  and  so  forth. 
Schoolboys  are  always  fertile  in  excuses,  and,  only  too 
often,  indifferent  as  to  the  quantity  of  truth  these  may 
contain. 

Another  curious  feature  of  Mr.  Garrison's  system, 
or  ratlier  lack  of  system,  was  that  he  kept  no  record 
of  the  order  of  standing  in  the  classes ;  and  so,  when 
the  class  in  geography,  for  instance,  was  called  to 
recite,  tlie  boys  would  come  tumbling  pell-mell  out 
of  their  seats,  and  crowd  tumultuously  to  the  space 
in  front  of  the  desk,  with  the  invariable  result  that 
the  smaller  boys  would  be  sent  to  the  bottom  of  the 
class,  wliether  they  deserved  to  be  tliere  or  not.  Then, 
as  to  the  iiearing  of  the  lesson,  there  was  absolutely 
no  rnle  about  it.  Sometimes  the  questions  would  be 
divided  impartially  among  the  whole  ciass.  Some- 
times they  would  all  be  asked  of  a  single  boy,  and  if 
he  happened  to  answer  correctly, — which,  however, 


90 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


was  an  extremely  rare  occurrence, — the  class  would  be 
dismissed  without  one  of  the  others  being  questioned. 

Another  peculiarity  of  Mr.  Garrison's  was  hii^  going 
out  on  business  for  an  hour  or  more  at  a  time,  and 
leaving  tlie  school  in  charge  of  one  of  the  older  boys, 
who  would  exercise  the  authority  thus  conferred  upon 
him  in  a  lax  and  kindly,  or  severe  and  cruel  manner, 
according  to  his  disposition.  One  of  the  boys  gener- 
ally chosen  for  this  duty  was  a  big,  good-hearted 
fellow  named  Munro;  another  was  an  equally  big, 
but  sour-dispositioned  chap  named  Siteman;  and 
whenever  Mr.  Garrison  showed  signs  of  going  out, 
there  was  always  intense  excitement  among  the  boys, 
to  see  who  would  be  appointed  monitor,  and  lively 
satisfaction,  or  deep  disappointment,  according  to  the 
choice  made. 

It  was  a  little  while,  of  course,  before  Bert  found 
all  this  out,  and  in  the  mean  time  he  made  good  head- 
way in  the  school,  because  his  fatlier  took  care  that 
his  lessons  were  well  learned  every  evening  before  he 
went  to  bed ;  and  Mr.  Garrison  soon  discovered  that 
whoever  else  might  fail,  there  was  one  boy  in  Bert's 
classes  that  could  be  depended  upon  for  a  right  an- 
swer, and  that  was  Bert  himself. 

There  was  another  person  who  noticed  Bert's  ready 
accuracy,  and  that  was  "  Shorty  "  Bowser. 

"  Say,  Bert,"  said  he  one  day,  "  how  is  it  that  you 
always  have  your  lessons  down  so  fine  ?  You  never 
seem  to  trip  up  at  all.'' 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


91 


"  Because  father  always  sees  that  I  learn  *em,"  an- 
swered Bert.  "  If  I  don't  learn  'em  in  the  evening, 
I've  got  to  do  it  before  breakfast  in  the  morning." 

"  I  wish  ny  dad  'ud  do  as  much  for  me ;  but  he 
don't  seem  to  care  a  cent  whether  I  ever  learn  'em 
or  not,"  said  poor  Shorty,  ruefully.  For  he  was 
pretty  sure  to  miss  two  out  of  every  three  questions 
a-sked  him,  and  Mr.  Qarrison  thought  him  one  of  his 
worst  seholars. 

"  Won't  your  mother  help  you,  then  ?  "  asked  Bert, 
with  interest. 

"Got  no  mother,"  was  the  reply,  while  Shorty's 
ejes  shone  suspiciously.  "Mother's  been  dead  this 
good  while." 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  sorry,"  said  Bert,  in  tones  of  genuine 
sympathy  that  went  right  to  Frank  Bowser's  heart, 
and  greatly  strengthened  the  liking  he  had  felt  from 
the  first  for  his  new  schoolmate. 

It  was  not  long  before  he  gave  proof  of  what  he 
thought  of  Bert  in  a  very  practical  way.  They  were 
for  the  most  part  in  the  same  classes,  and  it  soon  be- 
came evident  that  Shorty  felt  very  proud  of  his 
friend's  accuracy  at  recitation.  That  he  should  re- 
main at  the  foot  while  Bert  worked  his  way  up  steadily 
toward  tlie  head  of  the  class,  did  not  arouse  the 
slightest  feeling  of  jealousy  in  his  honest  heart ;  but, 
on  the  contrary,  a  frank  admiration  that  did  him  in- 
finite credit. 

But  it  was  just  the  other  way  with  Bob  Brandon, 


m 


m 


92 


BERT  LLOYD'd   BOYHOOD. 


an  overgrown,  lanky  boy,  who  Hcemed  to  have  taken 
a  dislike  to  Bert  from  the  first,  and  seized  every 
opportunity  of  acting  disagreeably  toward  him. 
Being  so  much  smaller,  Bert  had  to  endure  his  slights 
as  best  he  could,  but  he  found  it  very  hard,  and  par- 
ticularly so  that  Bob  should  prevent  him  from  getting 
his  proper  place  in  his  class.  Again  and  again  would 
Bert  pass  Bob,  who,  indeed,  rarely  knew  his  lessons; 
but  so  sure  as  the  class  reassembled,  Bob  would  roughly 
shoulder  his  way  toward  the  top  and  Bert  would 
have  to  take  a  lower  position,  unless  Mr.  Grarrison 
happened  to  notice  what  was  taking  place  and  read- 
justed matters,  which,  however,  did  not  often  occur. 

This  sort  of  thing  had  been  going  on  for  some  time, 
until  at  last  one  day  Bert  felt  so  badly  over  it  that 
when  he  went  back  to  his  seat  he  buried  his  head  in 
his  hands  and  burst  out  crying,  much  to  the  surprise 
of  Shorty,  who  at  once  leaned  over  and  asked,  with 
much  concern  : 

"  What's  the  matter,  Bert  ?    Missed  your  lesson  ?  " 

Bert  checked  his  tears  and  told  his  trouble. 

"  Sho !  that's  what's  the  matter,  hey  ?  I  guess  I'll 
fix  Bob  as  sure  as  my  name's  Bowser." 

"What'll  you  do?"  asked  Bert.  "Tell  the  mas- 
ter?" 

"No,  sir.  No  tattling  for  me,"  replied  Shorty, 
vigorously.  "  I'll  just  punch  his  head  for  him,  see  if 
I  don't" 

And  he  was  as  good  as  his  word.    Immediately 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


98 


'  IIP 


i<;' 


1 


aflcr  the  dismissal  of  the  school,  while  the  boys  still 
li uttered  on  the  playground,  Shorty  stalked  up  to  Bob 
liruiidon,  and  told  him  if  he  didn't  stop  shoving  Bert 
Lloyd  out  of  his  proper  place  in  the  classes  he  would 
))iinch  his  head.  Whereat  Bob  Brandon  laughed 
contemptuously,  and  was  rewarded  with  a  blow  on 
the  face  that  fairly  made  him  stagger.  Then,  of 
course,  there  was  a  fight,  the  boys  forraii-!  a  ring 
aruuud  the  combatants,  and  Bert  holding  1113  cham- 
pion's coat  and  hat,  and  hardly  knowi  '.^  whether  ♦.  j 
cry  or  to  '^heer.  The  fight  did  not  last  Ion,. .  Bob 
was  tlie  taller,  but  Frank  the  stouter  o(  the  two. 
ji  /b,  like  most  bullies,  was  a  coward,  but  Frpik  was 
tLs  plucky  as  he  was  strong.  Burning  with  righteous 
wrath,  Frank  went  at  his  opponent  hammer  and  tongs, 
and  after  a  few  minutes  ineffective  parrying  and  dodg- 
ing, the  latter  actually  ran  out  of  the  ring,  thorougldy 
beaten,  leaving  Frank  in  possession  of  the  fiehl,  to 
receive  the  applause  of  his  com|)anions,  and  particu- 
larly of  Bert,  who  gave  him  a  warm  hug,  sa^nng, 
gratefully : 
"  Dear,  good  Shorty.  I'm  so  glad  you  beat  him." 
That  fight  united  the  two  boys  in  firmer  bonds  of 
friendship  than  ever,  especially  as  it  proved  quite 
effective  so  far  as  Bob  Brandon  was  concerned,  as 
he  needed  no  other  lesson.  It  was  curious  how  Bert 
and  Frank  reacted  upon  one  another.  At  first  the 
influence  proceeded  mainly  from  Bert  to  Frank,  the 
latter  being  much  impressed  by  his  friend's  attention 


rh 


^•i:i\ 


I 

m 


Wpiillll! 


I 


94 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


to  his  lessons  and  good  behavior  m  school,  and  some- 
what stirred  up  to  emulate  these  virtues.  But  after 
Bert  liad  been  going  to  the  school  for  some  little  time, 
and  the  novelty  had  all  worn  oflf,  he  began  to  lose 
some  of  his  ardor  and  to  imitate  Frank's  happy-go- 
lucky  carelessness.  Instead  of  being  one  of  the  first 
boys  in  the  school  of  a  morning,  he  would  linger  and 
loiter  on  the  playground  until  he  would  be  among  those 
who  were  tlie  last  to  take  their  places.  He  also  began 
to  take  less  interest  in  his  lessons,  and  in  his  stand- 
ing in  the  classes,  and  but  for  the  care  exercised  at 
home  would  have  gone  to  school  very  ill  prepared. 

Frank  Bowser  was  not  bv  anv  means  a  bad  bov. 
He  had  been  carelessly  brought  up,  and  was  by  nature 
of  rather  a  reckless  disposition,  but  he  generally  pre- 
ferred right  to  wrong,  and  could,  upon  the  Mhole, 
be  trusted  to  behave  iiimself  under  ordinary  circum- 
stances, at  all  events.  His  influence  upon  Bert,  wiiile 
it  certainly  weald  not  lielp  him  much,  would  not  lianu 
him  seriously.  He  did  get  him  into  trouble  one  day, 
however,  in  a  wav  that  Bert  was  lontr  in  forirettinir. 

The  winter  had  come,  and  over  in  one  corner  of 
the  playground  was  a  slide  of  unusual  length  and 
excellence,  upon  which  the  Garrison  boys  had  fine 
times  every  day  before  and  after  school.  Comincr  up 
one  morning  early,  ou  purpose  to  enjoy  this  slide, 
Bert  was  greatly  disnppointed  to  find  it  in  possession 
of  a  crowd  of  gamius  from  the  upper  streets,  who 
clearly  intended  to  keep  it  all  to  themselves  so  long 


BERT  Lloyd's  -boyhood. 


95 


as  they  pleased.  Wliile  Bert,  standiug  at  a  safe  dis- 
tauce,  was  watching  tlie  usurpers  with  longing  eyes, 
Shorty  came  up,  and,  taking  in  the  situation,  said : 

•'Let  'era  alone,  Bert;  I  know  of  another  slide 
just  as  'good,  a  couple  of  squares  oflf.  Let's  go  over 
tliere." 

''  But,  isn't  it  most  school  time  ?  '^  objected  Bert. 

"  Why,  no,"  replied  Shorty.  "  There's  ten  minutes 
yet.  Come  along."  And  thus  assured,  Bert  com- 
plied. 

Tlie  slide  was'  farther  away  than  Shorty  had  said, 
but  proved  to  be  very  good  when  they  did  reach  it, 
and  they  enjoyed  it  so  much  that  the  time  slipped 
away  uniieeded,  until  presently  the  town  clock  on  the 
hill  above  them  boomed  out  ten,  in  notes  of  solemn 


■warning. 


"  My  sakes !  "  exclaimed  Bert,  in  alarm.  "  There's 
ten  o'clock.     What  will  we  do  ?  " 

"  Guess  we'd  better  not  go  to  school  at  all.  Mr. 
Garrison  will  never  miss  us,"  suggested  Shorty. 

''  Do  you  mean  to  meech?"  asked  Bert,  with  some 
indignation.  .  ' 

''That's  about  it,"  was  the  reply.  ^'What's  the 
harm?" 

"  Why,  you  know  it  ain't  right ;  I'm  not  going  to 
do  it,  if  you  are."  And  Bert  really  meant  what  he 
said. 

But,  as  luck  would  have  it,  on  their  way  back  to 
the  school  what  should  they  meet  but  that  spectacle, 


96 


BEET   LLOYD'S   BOYHOOD. 


one  of  the  most  attractive  of  the  winter  siglits  in  the 
eyes  of  a  Halifax  schoolboy,  a  fireman's  sleigh  drive. 
Driving  gayly  along  tlie  street,  between  lines  of 
spectators,  came  sleigh  after  sleigh,  drawn  by  fonr,  six, 
or  even  eight  carefully-matched  and  brigiitly-decked 
horses,  and  filled  to  overflowing  with  the  firemen  and 
their  fair  friends,  while  bands  of  music  played  merry 
tunes,  to  which  the  horses  seemed  to  step  in  time. 

Bert  and  Shorty  had  of  course  to  stop  and  see  tliis 
fine  sight,  and  it  chanced  that  when  it  was  about  one- 
half  passed,  one  of  the  big  eight-horse  teams  got 
tangled  up  with  a  passing  sleigh,  and  a  scene  of  con- 
fusion ensued  that  took  a  good  while  to  set  right. 
"When  at  length  all  was  straightened  out,  and  the  pro- 
cession of  sleighs  had  passed.  Shorty  asked  a  gentle- 
man to  tell  him  the  time. 

"  Five  minutes  to  eleven,  my  lad,"  was  the  startling 
reply. 

Shorty  looked  significantly  at  Bert.  "Most  too 
late  now,  don't  you  think  ?  " 

Bert  hesitated.  He  shrank  from  the  ordeal  of  en- 
tering tiie  crowded  schoolroom,  and  being  detected 
and  punished  by  Mr.  Garrison,  in  the  presence  of  all 
the  others.  Yet  he  felt  that  it  would  be  better  tt)  do 
that  than  not  go  to  school  at  all — in  other  words, 
meech. 

"Oh,  come  along,  Bert,"  said  Shorty;  "old  Garri- 
son can  do  without  us  to-day." 

Still  Bert  stood  irresolute. 


BERT  LLOYD'S   BOYHOOD. 


97 


"  Let's  go  down  and  see  the  big  steamer  that  came 
in  last  night,"  persisted  Shorty,  who  was  determined 
not  to  go  to  school,  and  to  keep  Bert  from  going,  too. 

Yielding  more  to  Shorty's  influence  than  to  the  at- 
traction of  the  steamer,  Bert  gave  way,  and  spent  the 
rest  of  the  morning  playing  about,  until  it  was  the 
usual  time  for  going  home. 

He  said  nothing  at  home  about  what  he  had  done, 
and  the  next  morning  went  back  to  school,  hoping, 
uith  all  his  heart,  that  his  absence  had  not  been 
noted,  and  that  no  questions  would  be  asked. 

But  it  was  not  to  be. 

Soon  after  the  opening  of  the  school,  when  all  were 
assembled  and  quiet  obtained,  Mr.  Garrison  sent  a 
thrill  of  expectation  through  the  boys  by  calling 
out,  in  severe  tones,  while  his  face  was  clouded  with 


an<ivr 


"  I'rank  Bowser  and  Cuthbert  Lloyd  come  to  the 
desk." 

A\'ith  pale  faces  and  drooping  heads  the  boys 
obeyed,  Fmnk  whispering  in  Bert's  ear  as  they 
went  up :  . 

"Tell  him  you  were  kept  at  home." 

Trembling  in  every  nerve,  the  two  culprits  stood 
before  their  teacher.  Mr.  Garrison  was  evidently 
much  incensed.  A  spasm  of  reform  i  ad  seized 
him.  His  eyes  had  been  opened  to  the  prevalence 
of  ''meeching,"  and  he  determined  to  pi.'t  a  stop 
to  it  by   making   an   example  of   the    present  of- 


98 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


1^ —  -J* 

Jlil 

iliiu' 

fenders.     He  had  missed  thera  both  from  school 
the  day  before,  and  suspected  the  cause. 

"Young  gentlemen,"  said  he,  in  his  most  chilling 
tones,  "you  were  absent  yesterday.  Have  you  any 
reason  to  give?" 

Frank,  without  answering,  looked  at  Bert,  while 
the  whole  school  held  their  breath  in  suspense.  Bert 
remained  silent.  It  was  evident  that  a  sharp  struggle 
was  going  on  within.  Becoming  impatient,  Mr. 
Garrison  struck  the  desk  with  hit;  hands,  and  said, 
sternly: 

^    "Answer  me  this  moment.     Have  you  any  ex- 
cuse?" 

With  a  quick,  decided  movement,  .Bert  lifted  his 
head,  and  looking  straight  into  Mr.  Garrison's  face 
with  his  big  brown  eyes,  said,  clearly: 

"No,  sir.     I  meeched." 

Quite  taken  aback  by  this  frank  confession,  Mr. 
Garrison  paused  a  moment,  and  then,  turning  to 
Frank,  asked: 

"And  how  about  you,  sir?" 

Without  lifting  his  head,  Frank  muttered,  "I 
meeched,  too,"  in  tones  audible  only  to  his  ques- 
tioner. 

So  pleased  was  Mr.  Grarrison  with  Bert's  honesty, 
that  he  would  have  been  glad  to  let  him  off  with 
a  reprimand;  but  the  interests  of  good  discipHne 
demanded  sterner  measures.  Accordingly,  he  called 
to  one  of  his  monitors: 


BERT  LLOYD'S  BOYHOOD. 


99 


"Munro,  will  you  please  go  over,  to  the  Acadian 
School  and  get  the  strap?" 

For  be  it  known  that  Mr.  Garrison  shared  the 
ownership  of  a  strap  with  his  brother,  who  taught 
a  scihool  in  an  adjoining  block,  and  had  to  send 
for  it  when  a  boy  was  to  be  punished. 

While  Munro  was  gone,  Bert  and  Frank  stood 
before  the  desk,  both  feeling  deeply  tlieir  position, 
and  dreading  what  was  yet  to  come.  When  Munro 
returned;  bearing  the  strap, — a  business-like  looking 
atl'air  about  two  feet  in  length, — Mr.  Garrison  laid 
it  on  the  desk,  and  seemed  very  reluctant  to  put 
it  in  use.  At  length,  overcoming  his  disinclination, 
lie  rose  to  his  feet,  and,  taking  it  up,  said: 

"Cuthbert  Lloyd,  come  forward  !"  i 

Bert,  his  head  drooping  upon  his  breast,  and  his 
face  flushed  and  pale  by  turns,  moved  slowly  for- 
ward. Grasping  the  strap,  Mr.  Garrison  raised  it 
to  bring  it  down  upon  Berths  outstretched  hand, 
when  suddenly  a  thought  strack  him  that  brought 
a  look  of  immense  relief  to  his  countenance,  and 
he  arrested  the  movement.  Turning  to  the  boys,  who 
were  watching  him  with  wondering  eyes,  he  said : 

"Boys,  I  ask  for  your  judgment.  If  Bert  and 
Frank  say,  before  you  all,  that  they  are  sorry  for 
\\lmt  they  have  done,  and  will  promise  never  to  do 
it  ay;ain,  may  I  not  relieve  them  of  the  whipping?" 

A  hearty  and  unanimous  chorus  of  "Yes,  sir," 
"Yes,  sir,"  came  from  the  school  at  once. 


1. 


I'Wii 


[.  H'.,.  ,  IB    IMI 


100 


BERT  LLOYD'S   BOYHOOD. 


"  Now,  my  lads,  do  you  hear  that  ?  "  continued  Mr. 
Garrison  in  a  kindly  tone,  turning  to  the  two  offenders. 
"  Will  you  not  say  you  are  sorry,  and  will  never  nieech 
again." 

"  I  am  sorry,  and  promise  never  to  do  so  again," 
said  Bert,  in  a  clear  distinct  voice,  as  the  tears  gatiiered 
in  his  eyes. 

"  I'm  sorry,  and  won't  do  it  again,"  echoed  Frank, 
in  a  lower  tone. 

"  That's  right,  boys,"  said  Mr.  Garrison,  his  face 
full  of  pleasure.  "  I  am  sure  you  mean  every  word 
of  it.  Go  to  your  seats  now,  and  we  /ill  resume 
work." 

It  took  the  school  some  little  time  to  settle  down 
again  after  this  unusual  and  moving  episode,  the  effect 
of  which  was  to  raise  both  Mr.  Garrison  and  Bert  a 
good  deal  higher  in  the  estimation  of  every  one 
present,  and  to  put  a  check  upon  the  practice  of 
"meeching"  that  went  far  toward  effecting  a  com- 
plete cure. 

Although  the  result  had  been  so  much  better  than 
he  expected,  Bert  felt  his  disgrace  keenly,  and  so  soon 
as  he  got  home  from  school  he  told  the  whole  story  from 
the  start  to  his  mother,  making  no  excuses  for  himself, 
but  simply  telling  the  truth. 

His  mother,  of  course,  was  very  much  surprised  and 
pained,  but  knew  well  that  her  boy  needed  no  furtiier 
reproaches  or  censure  to  realize  the  full  extent  of  his 
wrong  doing.     Bidding  him  therefore  seek  forgive- 


BERT  LLOYD'S   BOYHOOD. 


101 


ness  of  God  as  well  as  of  her,  she  said  that  she  would 
tell  Ills  father  all  about  it,  which  was  a  great  relief  to 
Bert,  who  dreaded  lest  he  should  have  to  perform 
tills  trying  task  himself;  and  so  the  matter  rested  for 
the  time. 


i  ■ 


■'I- 


m 


CHAPTER  XII. 


.™Jil! 


A  QUF£TION  OF  INFLUENCE. 

WHEN  Mr.  Lloyd  heard  the  story  of  Bert's 
"  raeeching,"  it  was  evident  that  it  hurt  him 
sorely.  He  was  quite  prepared  for  a  reasonable 
amount  of  waywardness  in  his  boy,  but  this  seriously 
exceeded  his  expectations.  He  could  not,  of  course, 
put  himself  exactly  iu  Bert's  place,  and  he  was  in- 
clined to  think  him  guilty  of  far  more  deliberate 
wrong  than  poor  Bert  had  for  a  moment  contem- 
plated. 

Then  again,  he  was  much  puzzled  as  to  what  should 
be  done  with  reference  to  Frank  Bowser.  He  had 
evidently  been  Bert's  tempter,  and  Bert  ought  perhaps 
to  be  forbidden  to  have  any  more  to  do  with  him  than 
he  could  possibly  help.  On  the  other  hand,  if  Bert 
were  to  be  interdicted  from  the  companionship  of  his 
schoolmates,  how  would  he  ever  learn  to  take  care  of 
himself  among  other  dangerous  associations?  This 
was  a  lesson  he  must  learn  some  day.  Should  he  not 
begin  now? 

So  Mr.  Lloyd  was  not  a  little  bewildered,  and  his 

talk  with  Bert  did  not  give  him  much  light;  for  while 

Bert,  of  course,  was  thoroughly  penitent  and  ready  to 

promise  anything,  what  he  had  to  tell  about  Frauk 

102 


BERT  LLOYD^S   BOYHOOD. 


103 


wa;^  simply  how  good  uatured,  and  generous,  and 
phicUy  lie  was,  and  so  forth. 

The  three  of  them,  father,  mother,  and  siaLer,  held 
a  consultation  over  the  matter  that  night  after  Bert 
had  gone  to  bed. 

"I  wish  I  felt  more  sure  as  to  what  is  the  wisest 
tiling  to  do,"  said  Mr.  Lloyd.  "  We  can't  keep  Bert 
in  a  glass  case,  and  yet  it  seems  as  if  we  should  do 
our  best  to  protect  him  from  every  evil  influence.  I 
would  like  to  know  more  about  that  Bowser  bov." 

"  Bert  tells  me  he  has  no  mother,"  said  Mrs.  Lloyd, 
in  sympathetic  tones,  **and  from  what  he  says  himself, 
his  fiuher  does  not  seem  to  take  much  interest  in  him. 
Poor  boy!  he  cannot  have  much  to  help  him  at  that 
rate." 

"  He's  a  good,  sturdy  little  chap,"  put  in  Mary. 
'■  He  came  down  from  school  with  Bert  one  day.  He 
seems  verv  fond  of  him." 

"  Well,  what  had  we  better  do  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Lloyd. 
"  Forbid  Bert  to  make  a  companion  of  him,  or  say 
nothing  about  it,  and  trust  Bert  to  come  out  all 
right?" 

"  I  feel  as  though  we  ought  to  forbid  Bert,"  answered 
Mrs.  Lloyd.  "  Frank  Bowser's  influence  cannot  help 
him  much,  and  it  may  harm  him  a  good  deal." 

"Suppose  you  put  that  the  other  way,  mother," 
spoke  up  Mary,  her  face  flushing  under  the  inspira- 
tion of  the  thought  that  had  just  occurred  to  her. 
"  Frank  Bowser  has  no  help  at  home,  and  Bert  has. 


IV^ 


104 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


i!i:' 


"Wliy,  then,  not  say  that  Bert's  influence  cannot  liarm 
Frank,  and  it  may  lielp  liim  a  good  deal?" 

"Marv,  mv  dear,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Llovd,  bendiiif 
over  to  pat  her  affectionately  on  the  shoulder,  "that's 
a  brilliant  idea  of  yours.  You're  right.  Bertshonkl 
help  Frank,  and  not  let  Frank  harm  him.  We  must 
make  Bert  understand  that  clearlv,  and  then  there 
will  be  nothing  to  fear." 

And  so  the  consultation  closed,  with  Marv  bearinsj 
off  the  honors  of  having  made  the  best  suggestion. 

It  was  acted  upon  without  delay.  Calling  Bert  to 
him  next  morning  while  they  were  awaiting  breakfast, 
Mr.  Llovd  laid  the  matter  before  him  : 

*•' Bert,"  said  he,  kindly,  "  we  were  talking  about 
you  last  night,  and  wondering  whether  we  ouglit  to 
forbid  your  making  a  companion  of  Frank  Bowser, 
What  do  vou  think?" 

"Oh,  father,  don't  do  that,"  answered  Bert,  looking 
up  with  a  startled  expression.  "He's  been  so  good  to 
me.  You  remember  how  he  served  Bob  Brandon 
for  shoving  me  down  in  class?" 

"Yes,  Bert;  but  I'm  afraid  he's  leading  you  into 
mischief,  and  that  is  not  the  sort  of  companion  I  want 
for  you." 

Bert  dropped  his  head  again.  He  had  no  answer 
readv  this  time. 

"But  then  there  are  always  two  sides  to  a  question, 
Bert,"  continued  Mr.  Lloyd,  while  Bert  pricked  up 
his   ears   hopefully.      "Why   should   you   not  help 


his  bi 


BERT  LLOYDS  BOYHOOD. 


105 


Frank  to  keep  out  of  mischief,  instead  of  his  leading 
you  into  it?     What  do  you  say  to  that?" 

Bert  did  not  seem  quite  to  understand,  so  his  father 
went  on: 

"Don't  you  see,  Bert?  You  must  either  help 
Frank  to  be  better,  or  he  will  cause  you  to  be  worse. 
Now,  which  is  it  to  be?" 

Bert  ?aw  it  clearly  now. 

"  Why,  father,"  he  cried,  his  face  bearaini^  with 
^'ladncss  at  this  new  turn  to  the  situation,  "  I'll  do 
my  best  to  be  a  good  boy,  and  I  know  Shorty  will, 
too,  for  he  always  likes  to  do  what  I  do." 

"Very  well  then,  Bert,"  said  Mr.  Lloyd,  "that's  a 
bargain.  And  now,  suppose  you  invite  Frank,  or 
'Shorty,' as  you  call  him,  to  spend  next  Saturday 
afternoon  with  you,  and  take  tea  with  us." 

"Oh,  father,  that  will  be  splendid,"  cried  Bert,  de- 
lightedly. "  We  can  coast  in  the  fort  all  the  afternoon 
and  have  fun  in  the  evening.  I'm  sure  Shorty  will 
be  so  glad  to  come." 

The  question  thus  satisfactorily  settled,  Bert  took 
his  breakfast,  and  went  off  to  school  in  high  glee  and 
great  impatience  to  see  Frank,  for  the  invitation  he 
bore  for  him  fairly  burned  in  his  mouth,  so  to  speak. 

As  he  expected,  Frank  needed  no  pressing  to  accept 
it.  He  did  not  get  many  invitations,  poor  chap !  and 
the  prospect  of  an  afternoon  at  Bert's  home  seemed 
very  attractive  to  him.  He  did  enjoy  hiu.  Jf  thor- 
oughly, too,  even  if  he  was  so  shy  and  awkward  that 


i 


106 


BERT  LLOYD^S   BOYHOOD. 


Mrs.  Lloyd  and  Mary  were  afraid  to  say  very  much 
to  him;  he  seemed  to  find  it  so  hard  to  answer 
tliem. 

But  Mr.  Lloyd  got  on  much  better  with  him. 
Although  his  boyhood  was  a  good  ways  in  the  past,  lie 
kept  its  memories  fresh,  and  could  enter  heartily  into  the 
discussion  of  any  of  the  sj)orts  the  younger  generation 
delighted  in.  He  knew  all  the  phiuses  peculiar  to 
baseball,  cricket,  marbles,  and  so  forth,  and  fairly 
astonished  Frank  by  his  intimate  knowledge  of  those 
amusements,  so  that  ere  long  Frank,  without  knowing 
just  how  it  happened,  was  chatting  away  as  freely  as 
though  he  were  out  on  the  Garrison  playground  instead 
of  being  in  Mr.  Lloyd's  parlor. 

Having  once  gotten  him  well  started,  Mr.  Lloyd  led 
him  on  to  talk  about  himself  and  his  home,  and  liis 
way  of  spending  his  time,  and  thus  learned  a  great 
deal  more  about  him  than  he  had  vet  known.  One 
fact  that  he  learned  pointed  out  a  way  in  which  Beit's 
influence  could  be  exerted  for  good  at  once.  Frank 
attended  no  Sunday-school.  He  went  to  church  sonie- 
times,  but  not  very  often,  as  his  father  took  little 
interest  in  church-going,  but  he  never  went  to  Sun- 
day-school ;  in  fact,  he  had  not  been  there  for  years. 
Mr.  Lloyd  said  nothing  himself  on  the  subject  to 
Frank.     He  thought  it  better  to  leave  it  all  to  Bert. 

After  Frank  had  gone,  leaving  behind  him  a  very 
good  impression,  upon  the  whole,  Mr.  Lloyd  told  Bert 
of  the  opportunity  awaiting  him. 


ilHi 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


107 


"WouKln't  you  like  to  ask  Frank  to  go  with  you 
to  Siuidiiy -school,  Bert?"  he  inquired. 

"  Of  course,  I  would,  father,"  replied  Bert,  promptly ; 
"  aiul  I'm  sure  he'd  go,  too,  and  that  Mr.  Silver  would 
be  very  glad  to  have  him  in  our  class." 

When  Bert,  however,  came  to  talk  to  Frank  about 
it,  he  found  him  not  quite  so  willing  to  go  as  he 
had  been  to  accept  the  invitation  for  Saturday. 

"  I'm  1  >t  anxious  to  go  to  Sunday-scrhool,  Bert," 
wild  lie.  i  sha'n't  know  anybody  there  but  you,  and 
it'll  be  awfully  slow." 

"But  you'll  soon  get  to  know  plenty  of  people," 
urged  Bert ;  "  and  Mr.  Silver  is  so  nice." 

And  so  they  argued,  Frank  holding  back,  partly 
because  his  shyness  made  him  shrink  from  going  into 
a  strange  place,  and  partly  because,  having  been  accus- 
tomed to  spend  his  Sunday  afternoons  pretty  much  as 
he  pleased,  he  did  not  like  the  idea  of  giving  up 
his  liberty.  But  Bert  was  too  much  in  earnest  to  be 
put  off.  The  suggestion  of  his  father  that  he  should 
try  to  do  Frank  some  good  had  taken  strong  hold 
upon  his  mind,  and  he  urged,  and  pleaded,  and  argued 
until,  at  last,  Frank  gave  way,  and  promised  to  try 
tiie  Sunday-school  for  a  while,  at  any  rate. 

Bert  reported  the  decision  at  home  with  much  pride 
and  satisfaction.  He  had  no  doubt  that  when  once 
Frank  found  out  what  a  pleasant  place  the  Sunday- 
school  was,  and  how  kind  and  nice  Mr.  Silver — his 
teacher  there — was,  he  would  want  to  go  every  Sunday. 


■I 


.  :.-=., J. 

f 
i 

108 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


The  Sunday-school  of  Calvary  Baptist  Church  cer- 
tainly had  about  as  pleasant  and  cheery  quarters  as 
could  be  desired.  For  one  thing,  it  was  not  held  in  a 
damp,  dark,  unventilated  basement  as  so  many  Suii- 
dav-schools  are. 

And,  oh,  what  a  shame — what  an  extraordinary 
perversion  of  sense  this  condemning  of  the  children 
to  the  cellars  of  the  churches  is!  Just  as  though  any- 
thing were  good  enough  for  them,  when  in  them  lies 
the  hope  of  the  church,  and  every  possible  means 
should  be  employed  to  twine  their  young  affections 
about  it !  But  these  words  do  not  apply  to  the 
Calvarv  Sundav-school,  for  it  was  not  held  in  a  dinjjv 
basement,  but  in  a  separate  buildiug  that  united 
in  itself  nearly  every  go  I  quality  such  an  edifice 
should  possess.  It  was  of  ample  size,  full  of  light 
and  air,  had  free  exposure  to  the  sunshine,  and  was  so 
arranged  that  every  convenience  was  offered  for  the 
work  of  the  school.  Around  the  central  hall  were 
arranged  rooms  for  the  Bible  classes,  the  infant  class, 
and  the  library,  so  planned  that  by  throwing  up  slid- 
ing doors  they  became  par.  of  the  large  room.  Tiie 
walls  were  hung  with  pictures  illustrating  Bible  scenes, 
and  with  mottoes  founded  upon  Bible  texts;  and 
finally,  the  benches  were  of  a  special  make  that  was 
particularly  comfortable. 

All  this  was  quite  a  revelation  to  Frank  when,  after 
some  little  coaxing,  Bert  brought  him  to  the  school. 
His  conception  of  a  Sunday-school  was  of  going  down 


BERT   LLOYD*S  BOYHOOD. 


109 


into  a  gloomy  basement,  and  being  lectured  about  the 
Bible  by  a  severe  old  man  with  a  long  gray  beard. 
Instead  of  that,  he  found  himself  in  one  of  the 
briixhtest  rooms  he  had  ever  seen,  and  receiving  a 
cordial  welcome  from  a  handsome  young  gentleman, 
to  whom  Bert  had  just  said  : 

*'Tliis  is  my  friend  Frank,  Mr.  Silver.  He's  going 
to  come  to  school  with  me  after  this." 

"Very  glad  indeed  to  have  you,  Frank,"  said  Mr. 
Silver,  giving  him  a  warm  grasp  of  the  hand.  "Sit 
right  down  with  Bert,  and  make  yourself  at  home." 

And  Frank  sat  down,  so  surprised  and  pleased  with 
evervthino;  as  to  be  half  inclined  to  wonder  if  he  was 
not  dreaming.  Then  the  fine  singing,  as  the  whole 
school,  led  by  an  organ  and  choir,  burst  forth  into 
song,  the  bright  pleasant  remarks  of  the  superintend- 
ent, Mr.  Hamilton,  Bert's  ideal  of  a  "  Christian 
soldier,"  and  the  simple  earnest  prayer  offered, — all 
iini)ressed  Frank  deeply. 

No  less  interesting  did  he  find  Mr.  Silver's  teaching 
of  the  lesson.  Mr.  Silver  attached  great  importance 
to  his  work  in  the  Sunday-school.  Nothing  was  per- 
mitted to  interfere  with  thorough  preparation  for  it, 
and  he  always  met  his  class  brimful  of  information, 
iilu-tration,  and  application,  bearing  upon  the  passage 
appointed  for  the  day.  And  not  only  so,  but  by 
shrewd  questioning  and  personal  appeal  he  sent  the 
precious  words  home  to  his  vonuir  hearers  and  fixed 
them  deep  in  their  memories.     He  was  a  rare  teacher 


m 


H\: 


110 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


in  many  respects,  and  Bert  was  very  fond  of  him. 
Frank  did  not  fail  to  be  attracted  by  hira.  As  he  and 
Bert  left  the  school  together,  Bert  asived  : 

"  Well,  Frank,  how  do  you  like  my  Sunday- 
school?" 

**  First  rate,"  replied  Frank,  heartily.  "  Say,  but 
isn't  Mr.  Silver  nice?  Seems  as  though  I'd  known 
him  for  ever  so  long  instead  "of  just  to-day." 

"Guess  he  is  nice,"  said  Bert.  "He's  just  tlie 
best  teacher  in  the  school.  You'll  come  everv  Sundav 
now,  won't  you,  Frank?" 

"I  think  so;"  answered  Frank;  "  I  might  just  as 
well  be  going  there  as  loafing  about  on  Sunday  after- 
noon doing  nothing." 

Mr.  Llovd  was  verv  much  pleased  when  he  heard 
of  Bert's  success  in  getting  Frank  to  the  Sunday- 
school.  He  recognized  in  Bert  many  of  those  quali- 
ties which  make  a  boy  a  leader  among  his  compan- 
ions, and  his  desire  was  that  his  son's  influence  siiould 
always  tell  for  that  which  was  manly,  pure,  and  up- 
right. To  get  him  interested  in  •  recruiting  for  the 
Sunday-school  was  a  very  good  beginning  in  church 
work,  and  Mr.  Lloyd  felt  tiiankful  accordingly. 

Neither  was  he  alone  in  feeling  pleased  and  thank- 
ful. Mr.  John  Bowser,  Frank's  father,  altliongli  he 
showed  great  indifference  to  both  the  intellectual  and 
moral  welfare  of  his  boy,  was,  nevertheless,  not 
opposed  to  others  taking  an  interest  in  him.  He 
cared  too  little  about  either  church  or  Sunday-school 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


Ill 


to  see   tliat  Frank   was  a  regular  attendant.      But 
he  was  very  willing  that  somebody  else  should  take 
an  interest  in  the  matter.     Moreover,  he  felt  not  a 
little  complacency  over  the   fact  that  his  son   was 
chosen    as    a  companion   by   Lawyer    Lloyd's  son. 
Engrossed  as  he  was  in  the  making  of  money,  a  big, 
burly,  gruff,  uncultured   contractor,  he   found   time 
somehow  to  acquire  a  great  respect  for  Mr.  Lloyd. 
He  tliought  him  rather  too  scrupulous  and  straight- 
forward a  man  to  be  his  lawyer,  but  he  admired  him 
greatly,  nevertheless;   and,  although  he  said  nothing 
about  it,  secretly  congratulated  himself  upon  the  way 
things  were  going.     He  had  little  idea  that  the  circle 
of  influence  Bert   had   unconsciously  started  would 
come  to  include  him  before  its  force  would  be  spent. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


BERT   AT  HOME. 


IT  was  an  article  of  faith  in  the  Lloyd  family  that 
there  was  not  a  house  in  Halifax  having  a  pleas- 
anter  situation  than  theirs,  and   they  certainly  had 
very  good  grounds  for  their  belief.     Something  has 
already  been  told  about  its  splendid  view  of  the  broad 
harbor,  furrowed  with  white-capped  waves,  when  of 
an  afternoon,  the  breeze  blew  in  smartly  from  the 
great  ocean  beyond;  of  its  snug  security  from  north- 
ern blasts;  of  the  cosy  nook  it  had  to  itself  in  a  quiet 
street ;  and  of  its  ample  exposure  to  the  sunshine. 
But,  perhaps,  the  chief  charm  of  all  was  the  old  fort 
whose  grass-grown  casemates  came  so  close  to  tiie  foot 
of  the  garden,  that  ever  since  Bert  was  big  enough  to 
jump,  he  had  cherished  a  wild  ambition  to  leap  from 
the  top  of  the  garden  fence  to  the  level  top  of  the 
neai'est  casemate. 

This  old  fort,  with  its  hmg,  obsolete,  muzzle  loading 
thirty-two  pounders,  was  associated  with  Bert's  ear- 
liest recollection.  His  nurse  had  carried  him  tliere 
to  play  about  in  the  long,  rank  grass  underneath 
the  shade  of  the  wide-spreading  willows  that  crested 
the  seaward  slope  before  he  was  able  to  walk;  and 
112 


ever  1 
favori 
Tiu 
to  iiii 
riages, 
would 
nient  1 
He  del' 
smooth 
in  peer 
zles.     J 
lie  did  J 
tlierebv 
He  'h 
children 
that   hi., 
thought 
so  she  w 
a  shad V 
quarter 
of   tlie 
•'^oaietJii 
Bert,  si 
ludicrous 
Protru 
and  kick 
h^  that 
^'011,    \vhi 

sounds  th 


le 


I 


TfM 


BERT  LLOYDS   BOi'HOOD. 


113 


ever  since,  summer  and  wiuter,  he  had  fouud  it  his 
favorite  playground. 

Tlie  cannons  were  an  unfailing  source  of  delight 
to  liim.  Mounted  high  upon  their  cumbrous  car- 
riages, with  little  pyramids  of  round  iron  balls  that 
would  never  have  any  other  use  than  that  of  orna- 
ment lying  beside  them,  they  made  famous  playthings. 
Ill;  delighted  in  clambering  up  and  sitting  astride  their 
smooth,  round  bodies  as  though  they  were  horses;  or 
in  peering  into  the  mysterious  depths  of  their  muz- 
zles. Indeed,  once  when  he  was  about  five  years  old 
he  did  more  than  peer  in.  He  tried  to  crawl  in,  and 
thereby  ran  some  risk  of  injury. 

lie  had  been  playing  ball  with  some  of  the  soldier's 
cliildren,  and  seemed  so  engrossed  in  the  amusement 
tliat  his  mother,  who  had  taken  him  into  the  fort, 
thought  he  miirht  verv  well  be  left  for  a  while,  and 
so  she  went  off  some  little  distance  to  rest  in  quiet,  in 
a  shady  corner.  She  had  not  been  there  more  than  a 
quarter  of  an  hour,  when  she  was  startled  by  the  cries 
(if  the  children,  who  seemed  much  alarmed  over 
Himeiiiing;  and  hastening  back  to  where  she  had  left 
Bert,  she  beheld  a  sight  that  would  have  been  most 
liulierous  if  it  had  not  been  so  terrifying. 

Protruding  from  the  mouth  of  one  of  the  cannons, 
and  kicking  very  vigorously,  were  two  sturdy,  mottled 
legs  that  she  instantly  recognized  as  belonging  to  her 
s=oii,  while  from  the  interior  came  strange  muffled 
sounds  that  showed  the  poor  little  fellow  was  screaming 


^r 


BJC<-i» 


114 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


Iff' 


in  dire  aifright,  as  well  he  might  in  so  distressing  a 
situation.  Too  young  to  be  of  auv  help,  Bert's  play- 
mates were  gathered  about  him  crying  lustily,  only 
one  of  them  having  had  the  sense  to  run  off  to  the 
carpenter's  shop  near  by  to  secure  assistance. 

Mrs.  Lloyd  at  once  grasped  Bert's  feet  and  strove 
to  pull  him  out,  but  found  it  no  easy  matter.  In  his 
efforts  to  free  liimself,  he  had  only  stuck  the  more  firmly, 
and  was  now  too  securelv  fastened  for  Mrs.  Llovd  to 
extricate  him.  Fortunately,  however,  a  big  soldier 
came  along  at  this  juncture,  and  slipping  both  hands 
as  far  up  on  Bert's  body  as  he  could  reacli,  grasped 
him  firmly,  and  with  one  strong,  steady  pull  drew 
him  out  of  the  cannon. 

When  he  got  him  out,  Bert  presented  so  comical 
a  spectacle  that  his  stalwart  rescuer  had  to  lay  him 
down  and  laugh,  until  the  tears  rolled  down  his 
cheeks.  Mrs.  Lloyd,  too,  relieved  from  all  anxiety, 
and  feeling  a  reaction  from  her  first  fright,  could  not 
help  following  his  example.  His  face  black  with 
grime  which  was  furrowed  with  tears,  iiis  hands  even 
blacker,  his  nice  clothes  smutched  and  soiled,  and  in- 
deed his  whole  appearance  suggested  a  little  chimney- 
sweep that  had  forgotten  to  put  on  his  working  clothes 
before  going  to  business.  Bert  certainly  was  enough 
to  make  even  the  gravest  laugh. 

Beyond  a  bruise  or  two,  he  was,  however,  not  a 
whit  the  worse  for  his  curious  experience,  which  had 
come  about  in  this  way :    While  they  were  placing 


him 

his 

xiety, 

il  not 

with 

cveu 

id  in- 

nney- 

lotlies 

lough 

not  a 
h  had 


Bert  Lloyd's  Boyhood. 


Page  lU 


iwni? 


^       'II 


a 


BERT  LLOYD'S   BOYHOOD. 


115 


with  the  ball,  one  of  the  children  had,  out  of  mischief, 
picked  it  u{>  and  tiirown  it  into  tiie  cannon,  where  it 
iiad  stayed.  Tliey  tried  to  get  it  out  by  moans  of  sticks, 
but  coukl  not  reach  it.  Tlieii  Bert,  always  plucivV 
and  enterprising  to  the  verge  of  rashness,  undertook 
to  go  after  the  ball  himself.  Tiie  other  boys  at 
once  joined  forces  to  lift  him  up  and  push  him  into 
the  dark  cavern,  and  then  alarmed  by  his  cries  and 
unavailing  struggles  to  get  out  again,  began  to  cry 
liieuiselves,  and  thus  brought  Mrs.  Lloyd  to  the 
.st'cue. 

Mr.  Lloyd  was  very  much  amused  when  he  heard 
about  Bert's  adventure. 

''  You've  beaten  Shakespeare,  Bert,"  said  he,  afior  a 
iiearty  laugh,  as  Mrs.  Lloyd  graphically  described  the 
occurrence.  "  For  Shakespeare  says  a  man  does  not 
M'ck  the  bubble  reputation  in  the  cannon's  moutii, 
until  he  becomes  a  soldier,  but  you  have  found  it, 
unlc-s  I  am  much  mistaken,  before  you  have  fairly 
bt'irun  being  a  schoolboy."      }■..,,  ^    . 

Bert  did  not  understand  the  reference  to  Shake- 
speare, but  he  did  understand  that  his  father  was  not 
displeased  with  him,  and  that  was  a  much  more  ira- 
})()rtaut  matter.  The  next  Sunday  afternoon,  when 
they  went  for  their  accustomed  stroll  in  the  fort,  Bert 
slu)\ved  his  father  the  big  gun  whose  dark  interior  he 
luul  attempted  to  explore. 

'■  Oh,  but,  father,  wasn't  I  frightened  when  I  got  in 
there,  and  couldn't  get  out  again  ! "  said  he,  earnestly, 


Hi 


iii 


116 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


clasping  his  father's  hand  tightly,  as  the  horror  of  the 
situation  came  back  to  him. 

"You  were  certainly  in  a  tigiit  place,  little  man," 
answered  Mr.  Lloyd,  "and  the  next  time  your  bull 
gets  into  one  of  the  cannons  you  liad  better  a.sU  one 
of  the  artillerymen  to  get  it  out  for  you.  He  will  find 
it  a  much  easier  job  than  getting  you  out.'* 

Bert  loved  the  old  fort  and  its  cannons  none  the 
less  because  of  his  adventure,  and  as  he  grew  ohler 
he  learned  to  drop  down  into  it  from  the  garden  fence, 
and  climb  back  again  with  the  agility  of  a  monkey. 
Tiie  garden   itself  was  not  very  extensive,  but  Bert 
took  a  great  deal  of  pleasure  in   it,  too,  for  lie  was 
fond  of  flowers — what  true  boy,  indeed,  is  not? — and 
it  contained  a  large  number  within  its  narrow  limits, 
there  being  no  less  than  two  score  rose  bushes  of 
d liferent  varieties,  for  instance.     The  roses  were  very 
plenteous  and   beautiful  when  in  their  prime,  but  at 
opposite  corners  of  the  little  garden  stood  two  trees  tiiat 
had  far  more  interest  for  Bert  than  all  the  rose  trees 
j^ut  together.     These  were  two  apple  trees,  planted, 
no   one   knew  just    how  or  when,  which   had   been 
allowed  to  grow  up  at  their  own  will,  without  ])runing 
or  grafting,  and,  as  a  consequence,  were  never  known 
to  produce  fruit  that  was  worth  eating.     Every  spring 
they  put  forth  a  brave  show  of  pink  and  white  blos- 
soms, as  though  this  year,  at  all  events,  they  were 
going  to  do  themselves  credit,  and  every  autumn  the 
result   appeared  in  half  a  dozen   hard,  small,  sour, 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


117 


witlicreil-up  apples  that  hardly  deserved  tiie  name. 
And  yet,  although  these  trees  showed  no  signs  of  re- 
pciitnnce  and  amendment,  Bert,  with  the  quenchless 
hopofuUiess  of  boyhood,  never  quite  despaired  of 
tiieir  bringing  forth  an  apple  that  he  could  eat  with- 
out having  his  mouth  drawn  up  into  one  tight  pucker. 
Autumn  after  autumn  he  would  watch  the  slowlv 
developing  fruit,  trusting  for  the  best.  It  always 
abused  his  confidence,  however,  but  it  was  a  long 
time  before  he  finally  gave  it  up  in  despair. 

At  one  side  of  the  garden  stood  a  neat  little  barn 
that  was  also  of  special  interest  to  Bert,  for,  besides 
the  stall  for  the  cow,  there  was  another,  still  vacant, 
which  Mr.  Lloyd  had  promised  should  have  a  pony 
for  its  tenant  so  soon  as  Bert  was  old  enough  to  be 
trusted  with  such  a  playmate. 

Hardly  a  day  passed  that  Bert  did  not  go  into  the 
stable  and,  standing  by  the  little  stall,  wonder  to 
himself  how  it  would  look  with  a  pretty  pony  in  it. 
Of  course,  he  felt  very  impatient  to  have  the  pony, 
but  Mr.  Lloyd  had  his  own  ideas  upon  that  point, 
and  was  not  to  be  moved  from  them.  He  thought 
that  when  Bert  was  ten  years  old  would  be  quite 
time  enough,  and  so  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  to 
wait,  which  Bert  did,  with  as  much  fortitude  as  he 
could  command. 

Whatever  might  be  the  weather  outside,  it  seemed 
always  warm  and  sunny  indoors  at  Bert's  home. 
The  Lloyds  lived  in  an  atmosphere  of  love,  both 


118 


BEUT  LLOYDS   BOYHOOD. 


Il 


•lil 


liuinan  and  divine.  Thev  loved  one  another  doarlv, 
l)Ut  tljoy  loved  God  still  more,  and  lived  close  to  iiim. 
Religion  was  not  so  niueli  expressed  as  implied  in 
their  life.  It  was  not  in  the  least  obtrusive,  yot 
one  could  never  mistake  their  point  of  view.  Next 
to  its  sincerity,  the  strongest  characteristic  of  tlitir 
religion  was  its  cheeriness.  They  saw  no  reason  whv 
the  children  of  the  King  should  go  mourning  all 
their  days;  on  the  contrary,  was  it  not  rather  their 
duty,  as  well  as  their  privilege,  to  establish  the  joy 
of  service?  • 

Brought  up  amid  such  influences,  Bert  was,  as  a 
natural  consequence,  entirely  free  from  those  straiijjju 
misconceptions  of  the  true  character  of  religion  which 
keep  so  many  of  the  young  out  of  the  kingdom.  lie 
saw  nothing  gloomy  or  repellent  in  religion.  That  lie 
should  love  and  serve  God  seemed  as  natural  to  hi  id 
as  that  he  should  love  and  serve  his  parents.  Of 
their  love  and  care  he  had  a  thousand  tokens  daily. 
Of  the  divine  love  and  care  he  learned  from  them, 
and  that  they  shouiii  believe  in  it  was  all  the  reason 
he  required  for  hi;;  doing  the  same.  He  asked  no 
further  evidence. 

There  were,  of  course,  times  when  the  spirit  of  evil 
stirred  within  him,  and  moved  him  to  rebel  against 
authority,  and  to  wish,  as  he  put  it  liimself  one  day 
when  reminded  of  the  text  "  Thou  God  seest  nie," 
that  "  God  would  let  him  alone  for  a  while,  and  not 
be  always  looking  at  him."     But  then  he  wasn't  an 


ani^el, 

liappy 

iuiidnt 

of  his 

His 

have  b 

were  a 

If  ther 

Lluvd  I 

his  hoy 

of  too  I 

of  iheii 


J) 


hoard, 
that  vol 
self,  anc 
One 
lyreat  jjr 
never  Ik 
That  is, 
had  mas 
])i('tiire 
to  spell 
all  liis  d 
years  of 
older,  he 
books, 
before  Ik 
Just  wh 
winged  1 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


119 


aiii^f'l,  by  any  nicnu.s,  hut  simply  a  hearty,  healtliy, 
li;i))|)y  hoy,  witli  a  Tair  share  of  temper,  and  as  much 
i'uiiiluess  for  having  his  own  way  as  the  average  boy 
of  his  age. 

Ills  parents  were  very  proud  of  him.  They  would 
iiave  been  queer  parents  if  they  were  not.  Yet  they 
won;  careful  to  diiiguise  it  from  him  as  far  as  possible. 
If  there  was  one  thing  more  than  another  that  Mr. 
LJDVtl  disliked  in  children,  and  therefore  dreaded  for 
his  boy,  it  was  that  forward,  conscious  air  which  comes 
of  too  much  attention  being  paid  them  in  the  presence 
of  their  elders.  "Little  folks  should  be  seen  and  not 
lieani,"  he  would  say  kindly  but  firmly  to  Bert,  when 
that  young  person  was  disposed  to  unduly  assert  him- 
self, and  Bert  rarelv  failed  to  take  the  hint. 

One  trait  of  Bert's  nature  which  gave  his  father 
great  gratification  was  his  fondness  for  reading.  He 
never  had  to  be  tauu;ht  to  read.  He  learned  himself. 
That  is,  he  was  so  eager  to  learn  that  so  soon  as  he 
had  mastered  the  alphabet,  he  was  always  taking  his 
pieture  books  to  his  mother  or  sister,  and  getting  them 
to  spell  the  words  for  him.  In  this  way  he  got  over 
all  Ills  difficulties  with  surprising  rapidity,  and  at  five 
years  of  age  could  read  quite  easily.  As  he  grew 
older,  he  showed  rather  an  odd  taste  in  his  choice  of 
books.  One  volume  that  he  read  from  cover  to  cover 
before  he  was  eieht  vearsold  was  Lavard's"  Nineveh." 
Just  why  this  portly  sombre-hued  volume,  with  its 
winged  lion  stamped  in  gold  upon  its  back,  attracted 


120 


BERT  LLOYD'S   BOYHOOD. 


I 


him  so  strongly,  it  would  not  be  easy  to  say.  Tlie 
illustrations,  of  course,  had  something  to  do  with  it, 
and  theu  the  fascination  of  digging  down  deep  into 
the  earth  and  bringing  forth  all  sorts  of  strange  things 
no  doubt  influenced  him. 

Another  book  that  held  a  wonderful  charm  for  iiini 
was  the  Book  of  Revelation.  So  carefully  did  he  con 
this,  which  he  thought  the  most  glorious  of  all  writings, 
that  at  one  time  he  could  recite  many  chapters  of  it 
word  for  word.  Its  marvelous  imagery  appeale<l  to 
his  imagination  if  it  did  nothing  more,  and  took  such 
hold  upon  his  mind  that  no  part  o*'  the  Bible,  not 
even  the  stories  that  shine  like  stars  through  the  iirst 
books  of  the  Old  Testament,  was  more  ''nteresting 
to  him. 

Not  only  was  Bert's  imagination  vivid,  but  his 
sympathies  were  also  very  quick  and  easily  aroustil. 
It  was  scarcely  safe  to  read  to  him  a  pathetic  talc, 
his  tears  were  so  certain  to  flow.  The  story  of 
Gellert's  hound,  faithful  unto  death,  well  nigh  broke 
his  heart, .  and  that  perfect  pearl  "  Rab  and  His 
Friends"  bedewed  his  cheeks,  although  he  read  it 
again  and  again  until  he  knew  it  almost  by  heart. 

No  one  ever  laughed  at  his  tenderness  of  heart. 
He  was  not  taught  that  it  was  unmanly  for  a  boy  to 
weep.  It  is  an  easy  thing  to  chill  and  harden  an  im- 
pressionable nature.  It  is  not  so  easy  to  soften  it 
again,  or  to  bring  softness  to  one  that  is  too  hard  for 
its  own  good. 


i^' 


BERT  LLOYD  S   BOYHOOD. 


121 


With  sucli  a  home,  Bert  Lloyd  could  hardly  fail 
be  a  happy  boy,  and  no  one  that  knew  hira  would 
ever  iiave  thought  of  hira  as  being  anything  else.  He 
had  his  dull  times,  of  course.  What  boy  with  all  his 
faculties  has  not  ?  And  he  had  his  cranky  spells,  too. 
But  neither  the  one  nor  the  other  lasted  very  long, 
and  the  sunshine  soon  not  on'y  broke  through  the 
clouds,  but  scattered  them  altogether.  Happy  are 
those  natures  not  given  to  brooding  over  real  or  fan- 
cied troubles.  Gloom  never  mends  matters :  it  can 
onlv  make  them  worse. 


M: 


'ill 


n 


'^ 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

AN   HONOEABLE  SCAR. 

BERT  was  not  learning  very  much  at  Mr.  Garri- 
son's school.  He  had  some  glimmering  of  this 
himself,  for  he  said  to  Frank  one  day,  after  they  liad 
returned  to  their  seats  from  having  gone  through  the 
form — for  really  it  was  nothing  more — of  saying  one 
of  their  lessons : 

"  It's  mighty  easy  work  getting  through  lessons  at 
this  school,  isn't  it.  Shorty  ?  "  And  Shorty,  being  of  the 
same  opinion,  as  he  had  happened  not  to  be  asked  any 
questions,  and  therefore  had  not  made  any  mistakes, 
promptly  assented. 

*'■  That's  so,  Bert,"  said  he,  "  and  the  oftener  he  asks 
Munro  and  you  to  say  the  whole  lesson,  and  just  gives 
me  the  go-by,  the  better  I  like  it." 

But  Bert  was  not  the  only  one  who  noticed  that  liis 
education  was  not  making  due  progress.  His  father 
observed  it,  too,  and,  after  some  thinking  on  the  sub- 
ject, made  up  his  mind  that  he  would  allow  Bert  to 
finish  the  spring  term  at  Mr.  Garrison's,  and  then, 
after  the  summer  holidays,  send  him  to  some  other 
school. 

The  winter  passed  away  and  spring  drew  near. 
Spring  is  the  most  dilatory  and  provoking  of  all  the 
122 


BERT  LLOYDS    BOYHOOD. 


123 


seasons  at  Halifax.  It  advances  and  retreats,  pauses 
and  progresses,  promises  and  fails  to  perform,  until  it 
really  seems,  sometimes,  as  though  midsummer  would 
he  at  hand  and  no  spring  at  all.  With  the  boys  it  is  a 
particularly  trj'^ing  time  of  the  year.  The  daily  increas- 
inf;  lieat  of  the  sun  has  played  havoc  with  the  snow 
and  ice,  and  winter  sports  are  out  of  the  question, 
Y(!t  the  snow  and  ice — or  rather  the  slush  tliev  make 
— still  lingers  on,  and  renders  any  kind  of  summer 
t^poit  impcsoible.  For  nearly  a  month  this  unsatis- 
I'actory  state  of  affairs  continues,  and  then,  at  length, 
the  wet  dries  up,  the  frost  comes  out  of  the  ground, 
the  cliill  leaves  the  air,  and  marbles,  rounders,  base- 
hall,  and,  later  on,  cricket  make  glad  the  hearts  and 
tire  the  legs  of  the  eager  bo  vs. 

Tliis  spring  was  made  memorable  for  Bert  by  an 
occurrence  that  left  its  mark  upon  him,  lest,  j)erhap8, 
he  might  be  in  danger  of  forgetting  it.  In  front  of 
the  large  building,  in  one  room  of  which  Mr.  Garri- 
son's school  was  held,  there  was  a  large  open  square, 
known  as  the  Parade.  It  was  a  bare,  stony  place, 
kept  in  order  by  nobody,  and  a  great  resort  for  the 
gamins  of  the  city,  who  could  there  do  pretty  much 
what  they  pleased  without  fear  of  interruption  from 
the  police.  On  the  upper  side  of  this  square,  and 
over  toM'ard  the  opposite  end  from  Mr.  Garrison's, 
was  another  school,  called  the  National,  and  having  a 
large  number  of  scholars,  of  a  somewhat  commoner 
class  than  those  which  attended  Mr.  Garrison's.     It 


124 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


need  hardly  be  said  that  the  relations  between  the  two 
schools  were,  to  use  a  diplomatic  phrase,  "  chronically 
strained."  They  were  always  at  loggerheads.  A 
Garrison  boy  could  hardly  encounter  a  National  boy 
without  giving  or  getting  a  cuff,  a  matter  determined 
by  his  size,  and  riots,  on  a  more  or  less  extensive  scale, 
were  continually  taking  place  when  groups  of  boys 
representing  the  two  schools  would  happen  to  meet. 

Bert  was  neither  quarrelsome  nor  pugnacious  by 
nature.  He  disliked  very  much  being  on  bad  terms 
with  any  one,  and  could  not  understand  why  he  should 
regard  another  boy  as  his  natural  enemy  simply  be- 
cause he  happened  to  go  to  a  different  school.  IMore 
than  once  he  had  quite  an  argument  with  Frank 
Bowser  about  it.  Frank  was  always  full  of  fight. 
He  hated  every  National  boy  as  vigorously  as  tliough 
each  one  had  individually  done  him  some  cruel  injury. 
As  sure  as  a  collision  took  place,  and  Frank  was 
present,  he  was  in  the  thick  of  it  at  once,  dealing 
blows  right  and  left  with  all  his  might. 

In  obedience  to  the  clictation  of  his  own  nature, 
strengthened  by  his  father's  advice,  Bert  kept  out  of 
these  squabbles  so  far  as  he  possibly  could,  and  as  a 
natural  consequence  fell  under  suspicion  of  being  a 
coward.  Even  Frank  began  to  wonder  if  he  were 
not  afraid,  and  if  it  were  not  this  which  kept  him 
back  from  active  participation  in  the  rows.  He  said 
something  about  it  to  Bert  one  day,  and  it  hurt  Bert 
very  much. 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


125 


e, 
.f 
a 
a 
tve 
ini 


"Fra  not  afraid,  Shorty;  you  know  well  enough 
Tin  not,"  said  he,  indignantly.  "  But  I'm  not  going 
to  Hgiit  with  fellows  who  never  did  me  any  harm. 
It's  wrong,  that's  what  it  is,  and  I'm  not  going  to  do 
it.    I  don't  care  what  you  say." 

''  But  you  ought  to  chip  iu  sometimes,  Bert,  or  tiie 
boys  will  think  that  you're  a  coward,"  urged  Frank. 

"  I  can't  help  it  if  they  do,  Shorty,"  was  Bert's 
unshaken  reply.  "I  don't  feel  like  it  myself,  and, 
what's  more,  father  doesn't  want  me  to." 

Tiie  verv  next  dav  there  was  a  row  of  unusual  di- 
mensions,  brought  about  by  one  of  the  Garrison  boys 
at  tlie  noon  recess  havinij  started  a  fiijht  with  one  of 
the  National  bovs,  which  almost  in  a  twinklintr  of  an 
eve  involved  all  the  bovs  belonsriniij  to  both  schools 
then  in  tiie  Parade.  It  was  a  lively  scene,  that  would 
have  y-kuldened  the  heart  of  an  Irisiiman  homesick 
for  the  excitement  of  Donnvbrook  Fair.  There  were 
at  least  one  hundred  boys  engaged,  the  sides  being 
pretty  evenly  matched,  and  the  battle  ground  was  the 
centre  of  the  Parade.  To  drive  the  other  school  in 
ignominious  flight  from  this  spot  was  the  object  of 
each  boyish  regiment,  and  locked  in  hostile  embrace, 
like  the  players  iu  a  foot-ball  match  when  a  "  maul  " 
has  been  formed,  they  swayed  to  and  fro,  now  one 
side  gaining,  now  the  other,  while  shouts  of  "  Go  in. 
Nationals!'^  "Give  it  to  them,  Garrisons!  "  mingling 
with  exclamations  of  anger  or  pain,  filled  the  air. 

Bert  was  not  present  when  the  struggle  began.     In 


iimiiiE'i. 


i 

1 

J 
I 

l| 

.1 

i 

126 


BERT  LLOYD'S   BOYHOOD. 


^'\ 


i!  !i 


fact,  it  was  well  under  way  before  he  knew  anything 
about  it,  as  he  liad  lingered  iu  the  schoolroom  to  ask 
Mr.  Garrison  some  question  after  the  other  boys  luid 
run  out.  On  going  out  iu  the  Parade,  he  was  at  rtr.st 
startled  by  the  uproar,  and  then  filled  with  an  intcMise 
desire  to  be  in  the  midst  of  the  battle.  But,  re- 
membering his  father's  injunctions,  he  paused  for  a 
moment  irresolute.  Then  he  noticed  that  the  National 
boy-  vere  gaining  the  advantage,  and  the  Garrison 
boys  retreating  before  them.  The  next  instant  he 
capjrht  ;5»<Tht  of  Frank  Bowser,  who  had,  of  course, 
been  in  the  forefront  of  the  fight,  left  unsupported  by 
his  comrades,  and  surrounded  bv  a  circle  of  threaten- 
ing  opponents.  Bert  hesitated  no  longer.  With  a 
shout  of  "  Come  on,  boys  ! ''  he  sprang  down  the 
steps,  rushed  across  the  intervening  space  and  flung 
himself  into  the  group  around  Frank,  with  such 
force  that  two  of  the  Nationals  were  hurled  to  tlie 
groilnd,  and  Frank  set  at  liberty.  Inspirited  by  Beit's 
gallant  onset,  the  Garrisons  returned  to  the  charge,  the 
Nationals  gave  way  before  them,  and  Bert  was  jnst 
about  to  raise  the  shout  of  victory,  when  a  bio;  hullc 
of  a  boy  who  had  been  hovering  on  the  outskirts  of 
the  Nationals,  too  cowardlv  to  come  to  anv  closer 
quarters,  picked  up  a  stone  and  threw  it  with  wicked 
force,  straight  at  Bert's  face.  His  aim  was  only  too 
good.  With  a  sharp  thud,  the  stone  struck  Bert  on 
liis  left  temple,  just  behind  the  eye,  and  the  poor  boy 
fell  to  the  ground  insensible. 


jWMiiBWjiijmri; 


BERT  LLOYD^S   BOYHOOD. 


127 


the 


tlit> 


loser 


Instantly  the  struggle  and  confasiou  ceased,  but  not 
before  Frank,  in  a  passion  of  fury,  had  dealt  Bert's 
cowardly  assailant  a  blow  that  sent  him  reeling  to  the 
ground,  and  had  theu  sprung  to  his  friend's  side. 

"Get  a  doctor,  some  fellow,"  he  shouted,  holding 
lip  the  pale,  calm  face,  down  which  the  blood  was 
trickling  from  an  ugly  wound.  "Let's  carry  him 
iuto  tlie  school ! " 

A  dozen  eager  volunteers  came  forward.  Carefully 
and  tenderly  Bert  was  lifted  up,  and  carried  into  the 
schoolroom,  which,  fortunately,  Mr.  Garrison  had 
not  yet  left.  Placed  upon  one  of  the  benches,  with 
Frank's  coat  for  a  pillow,  his  head  was  bathed  with 
cold  water,  and  presently  he  revived,  much  to  the 
relief  and  delight  of  the  anxious  boys  standing  round. 
A  few  minutes  later  the  doctor  arrived.  With  quick, 
deft  fingers  he  stanched  the  wound,  covered  it  with 
plaster,  enveloped  it  with  bandages,  and  then  gave 
directions  that  Bert  should  be  sent  home  in  a  cab 
without  delav. 

"Why,  Bert  darling,  what  does  this  mean?"  ex- 
claimed Mrs.  Lloyd,  as  she  opened  the  door  for  hira. 

"Ask  Frank,  mother;  ray  head's  aching  too  bad 
to  tell  you,"  replied  Bert,  putting  up  his  hand  with  a 
gesture  of  pain.  And  so,  while  Bert  lay  on  the  sofa 
with  his  mother  close  beside  him,  and  Mary  preparing 
him  a  refreshing  drink,  Frank  told  the  story  in  his 
own,  rough,  straightforward  fashion,  making  it  all 
60  clear,  with  the  help  of  a  word  now  and  theu  from 


123 


K^nl 


BEKT  LLOYD'S  BOYHOOD. 


Bert,  that  when  he  ended,  Mrs.  Lloyd,  bending  over 
her  son,  kissed  hira  tenderly  on  the  forehead,  sayinir: 

**  You  know,  Bert,  how  I  dislike  fighting,  but  I 
cannot  find  it  in  my  heart  to  blame  you  this  time. 
You  acted  like  a  hero." 

In  this  ophiion  Mr.  Lloyd,  when  he  came  home, 
fully  concurred.  He  had  not  a  word  of  blame  for 
Bert,  but  made  the  boy's  heart  glad  by  telling  him  to 
always  stand  by  his  friends  when  they  were  in 
trouble,  and  then  he  would  never  be  without  friends 
who  would  stand  bv  him. 

Bert's  wound  took  some  time  to  heal,  and  when  it 
did  heal,  a  scar  remained  that  kept  its  place  for  many 
years  after.  But  he  did  not  suffer  for  naught.  The 
incident  was  productive  of  good  in  two  directions.  It 
established  Bert's  character  for  couraare  bevoiid  all 
cavil,  and  it  put  an  end  to  the  unseemly  rows  between 
the  schools.  The  two  masters  held  a  consultation,  as 
a  result  of  which  they  announced  to  their  schools 
that  any  boys  found  taking  part  in  such  disturbances 
in  future  would  be  first  publiely  whipped,  and  then 
expelled;  and  this  threat  put  an  effectual  stop  to  the 
practice. 

The  days  and  weeks  slipped  by,  and  the  summer 
vacation,  so  eagerly  looked  forward  to  by  all  sciiool- 
bovs,  arrived.  None  were  more  deliijhted  at  its 
arrival  than  Bert  and  Frank.  Their  friendship  had 
grown  steadily  stronger  from  the  day  of  their  first 
acquaintance.     They  had  few  disagreements.     Frank, 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


129 


Its 
uul 

[fSt 

Ilk, 


altliougli  the  older  and  larger  of  the  two,  let  Bert 
take  tlie  lead  in  almost  all  cases,  for  Bert  had  the 
more  active  mind,  and  his  plans  were  generally  the 
better.  Happily  for  the  serenity  of  their  relations, 
Bert,  while  he  was  fond  enough  of  being  the  leader, 
never  undertook  to  "  boss  "  his  companions.  If  they 
(lid  not  readily  fall  into  line  with  him,  why  he  simply 
fell  into  line  with  them,  and  that  was  an  end  of  it. 
His  idea  of  fun  did  not  consist  in  being  an  autocrat, 
aiui  ordering  others  about.  He  very  much  preferred 
that  all  should  work  together  for  whatever  common 
piir])ose  happened  to  be  in  their  minds  at  the  time; 
and  thus  it  was,  that  of  the  boys  who  played  together 
ill  the  old  fort,  and  waded  in  the  shallow  water  that 
rippkd  along  the  sand  beach  at  its  foot,  no  one  was 
more  popular  than  Bert  Lloyd. 

They  had  ^ne  fun  during  this  summer  vacation. 
Neither  Frank  nor  Bert  went  out  of  the  city,  and  they 
played  together  every  day,  generally  in  the  fort;  but 
sometimes  Bert  would  go  with  Frank  to  the  Horti- 
cultural Gardens,  where  a  number  of  swings  made  a 
great  attraction  for  the  young  folk,  or  down  to  the 
point  where  they  would  ramble  through  the  woods, 
imagining  themselves  brave  hunters  in  search  of  bears, 
and  carrying  bows  and  arrows  to  help  out  the  illusion. 

The  greatest  enjoyment  of  all,  however,  was  to  go 
out  upon  the  water.  Of  course,  they  were  not  allowed 
to  do  this  by  themselves.  They  were  too  young  for 
that  yet,  but  very  often  Mr.  Lloyd  would  leave  his 


m 


^% 


I 

■t 


;! 


130 


BERT   1JX)YD's   BOYHOOD. 


office  early  in  tlie  afternoon  in  order  to  take  tlieni  out 
in  the  pretty  skiff  he  kept  at  the  fort,  or  the  wiiole 
family  would  spend  the  long  summer  evenings  to- 
gether on  the  water. 

Bert  was  at  his  happiest  then.  Under  his  father's 
directions  he  was  vigorously  learning  to  row,  ami  it 
was  very  stimulating  to  have  his 'mother  and  sister  as 
spectators.  They  took  such  a  lively  interest  in  his 
progress,  that  he  did  not  mind  if  they  did  laugh 
h  iartily,  but  of  course  not  unkindly,  when  sometimes 
in  his  eagerness  to  take  an  extra  big  stroke  he  would 
"catch  a  crab,"  and  roll  over  on  his  back  in  the  bot- 
tom of  the  boat,  with  his  feet  stuck  up  like  two  siguals 
of  distress.  Bert  accomplished  this  a  good  many 
times,  but  it  did  not  discourage  him.  He  was  up  and 
at  it  asi;ain  immediatelv. 

"  Don't  look  at  your  oar,  boys  !  Don't  look  at  your 
oar  I  Keep  your  faces  toward  the  stern,"  Mr,  Lloyd 
would  call  out  as  Bert  and  Frank  tu<>:sj;ed  awav  man- 
fully,  and  they,  who  had  been  watching  their  oars  to 
make  sure  that  they  went  into  the  water  just  rigiit, 
would  answer  "Aye,  aye,  sir  ! "  in  true  sailor  fashion ; 
and  then  for  the  next  few  moments  they  would  keep 
their  eyes  fixed  straight  astern,  only  to  bring  them 
back  again  soon  to  those  dripping  blades  that  had 
such  a  saucy  way  of  getting  crooked  unless  they  were 
well  watched. 

A  more  delightful  place  than  Halifax  harbor  of  a 
fine  summer  evening  could  hardly  be  desired.    The 


BERT  LLOYD  S    BOYHOOD. 


131 


julit, 

jion ; 

kce|) 

hem 

had 

^vc're 

lof  a 
The 


wind,  which  hud  been  busy  making  *•  white  caps"  all 
llu!  afternoon,  went  to  rest  at  sundown.  The  ruffled 
waters  sank  into  a  glassy  ;;alni,  the  broad  harbor  be- 
coming one  vast  mirror  in  wliich  the  rich  hues  of  tiie 
sunset,  the  long  dark  lines  of  the  wharves,  and  the 
tall  masts  of  the  ships  sleeping  at  their  moorings  were 
reflected  with  many  a  quaint  curve  and  curious  iuvo- 
Itition.  Boats  of  every  kind,  the  broad-bottomed 
(lory,  the  sharp-bowed  flat,  tl?e  trim  keel  boat,  the 
long  low  whaler,  with  their  jolly  companies,  dotted  the 
placid  surface,  while  here  and  there  a  noisy  steam 
iuuiich  saucily  puflfed  its  way  along,  the  incessant  throb 
of  its  engine  giving  warning  of  its  approach.  Far 
up  tiie  harbor  at  their  moorings  off  the  dockyard,  the 
huge  men-of-war  formed  centres  around  which  the 
boats  gathered  in  numerous  squads,  for  every  evening 
tliG  hand  would  play  on  board  these  floating  castles, 
aud  tlie  music  never  seemed  more  sweet  than  when  it 
floated  out  over  the  still  waters.  Sometimes,  too,  after 
the  hand  had  ceased,  the  sailors  would  gather  on  the 
forecastle  and  sing  their  songs,  as  only  sailors  can  sing, 
wiiiniuir  round  after  round  of  applause  from  their 
appreciative  audience  in  the  boats. 

All  of  this  was  very  delightful  to  Bert.  So,  tuo,  v/as 
the  paddling  about  on  the  beach  that  fringed  the  bot- 
tom of  the  fort's  grassy  slope,  and  the  making  of  minia- 
ture forts  out  of  the  w^arm,  drv  sand,  onlv  to  have  them 
dissolve  asrain  before  the  advancing  tide.  Just  as  de- 
lightful,  too,  was  the  clambering  over  the  boulders  that 


II 


132 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


marked  the  ruins  of  an  old  pier,  searching  for  peri- 
winkles, star-fish,  and  limpets,  witii  never-ceasing 
wonder  at  the  tenacity  with  which  they  held  c  the 
rocks.  Playing  thus  in  the  sunshine  almost  from  dawn 
to  dark,  Bert  grew  visibly  bigger  and  browner  and 
sturdier,  as  tlie  days  slipped  swiftly  by. 


CHAPTER  XV. 


A  CHANGE  OF  SCIIOOIJ3. 

117 ITH  the  coming  of  September  the  holidays 
'  *  ended,  and  the  question  of  schools  once  more 
was  ojirnestly  discussed  in  the  Lloyd  household. 

*^  I  have  quite  made  up  my  mind  not  to  send  Bert 
bjick  to  Mr.  Garrison,"  said  Mr.  I^loyd.  "  He  seems 
to  1)0  learning  little  or  nothing  there.  The  fact  of  the 
matter  is,  what  he  does  learn,  he  learns  at  home,  and 
Mv.  Garrison  simply  hears  him  recite  his  lessons." 

*'  That's  very  true,"  a.ssented  Mrs,  Lloyd.     "  I  am 

0  i/  <^oo  glad  to  help  Bert  all  I  can  in  his  studies,  but 

1  do  not  see  the  propriety  of  our  having  the  greater 
part  of  the  work  of  teaching  him  ourselves  when  we 
are  at  the  same  time  paying  some  one  else  to  do  it. 
Do  you,  Mary?"  she  added,  turning  to  her  daughter. 

''  No,  mother,"  replied  Mary.  "  I  suppose  it  is  not 
quite  fair.  Yet  I  would  feel  sorry  if  Bert  went  to  a 
scliool  where  everything  was  done  for  him,  and  notli- 
inn;  left  for  us  to  do.  I  like  to  help  him.  Pie  gets 
lioUl  of  an  idea  so  quickly ;  it  is  a  pleasure  to  explain 
anything  to  him." 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  a  school  where  there  is  a 
^n)o(l  deal  of  healthful  rivalry  among  the  boys  would 
be  the  best  place  for  Bert.     He  is  very  ambitious,  and 

133 


134 


BERT  LLOYDS   BOYHOOD. 


eager  to  be  at  the  top,  and  in  a  school  of  that  kind  liis 
energies  would  be  constantly  stimulated,"  bciid  Mr. 
Lloyd.  "What  do  you  think,  Kate?"  addressing  his 
wife.  ' 

"I  think  that  would  be  very  good,  indeed,"  an- 
swered Mrs.  Lloyd.  "  But  do  you  know  of  any  such 
school?" 

"  I  have  been  hearing  good  accounts  of  Dr.  John- 
ston's school,  and  he  certainly  seems  to  have  a  great 
deal  of  system  iu  his  methods,  so  that  I  am  inclined 
to  give  him  a  trial." 

"  Oh,  Dr.  Johnston's  is  a  splendid  school,"  spoke 
up  Mary,  with  enthusiasm.  "  Both  of  Edie  Strong's 
brothers  go  there,  and  I  have  often  heard  them  tell 
about  it.  But  isn't  Bert  too  young  for  it  yet  ?  He's 
only  nine,  you  know,  and  they  are  mostly  big  boys 
who  go  to  Dr.  Johnston's." 

"  Not  a  bit !"  said  Mr.  Lloyd,  emphatically.  "Not 
a  bit !  True,  Bert  is  only  nine,  but  lie  looks  more 
like  twelve,  and  thinks  and  acts  like  it,  too.  It  will 
be  all  the  better  for  him  to  be  with  boys  a  little  older 
than  himself.  He  will  find  it  hard  to  hold  his  own 
among  t^  m,  and  that  will  serve  to  strengthen  and 
develop     m." 

"Poor  little  chap!"  said  Mrs.  Lloyd,  tenderly. 
"  I  expect  he  will  have  a  pretty  hard  time  of  it  at 
first.  I  wish  Frank  were  going  with  him,  for  he 
thinks  all  the  world  of  Bert,  and  is  so  much  older  and 
bigger  that  he  could  be  a  sort  of  protector  for  him." 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


1.35 


"  I'm  glad  you  mentioned  Frank,  Kate,"  exclaimed 
^Ir.  Lloyd.  "  You've  given  me  an  idea.  If  I  decide 
to  ^cnd  Bert  to  Dr.  Johnston's,  I  will  make  a  point  of 
seeing  Mr.  Bowser,  to  ask  him  if  he  will  not  consent 
to  send  Frank,  too.  I  hardly  expect  he  will  make 
any  objection,  as  it  is  not  likely  there  will  be  any 
diiVerence  in  the  expense." 

"  Oh,  I  do  hope  Frank  will  go,  too,"  cried  Mary, 
clai^ping  her  hands.  "  If  he  does,  I  shall  feel  ever  so 
much  easier  about  Bert.  Frank  is  so  fond  of  him 
that  lie  won't  let  him  be  abused,  if  he  can  help  it.'^ 

"Very  well,  then,'*  said  Mr.  Lloyd,  bringing  the 
conversation  to  a  close.  "  I  will  make  some  further 
iiKjuiries  about  Dr.  Johnston's,  and  if  the  results  are 
satisfactory  I  will  see  Mr.  Bowser,  and  do  what  I  can 
to  pei-suade  him  to  let  Frank  accompany  Bert." 

A  few  days  after,  Mr.  Lloyd  called  Bert  to  him, 
wliile  they  were  all  sitting  in  the  parlor,  just  after 
dinner. 

"  Come  here.  Bert,"  said  he.  "  I  want  to  have  a 
talk  with  you  about  going  to  school.  You  know  I 
don't  intend  you  to  go  back  to  Mr.  Garrison's.  Now, 
where  would  you  like  to  go  yourself?  " 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,  father,"  replied  Bert.  "I 
don't  want  to  go  to  the  Acadian  or  National  School, 
anyway." 

"  You  need  not  feel  troubled  on  that  score.  So  far 
as  I  can  learn,  they  are  no  hetter  than  the  one  you 
Lave  been  going  to.     But  what  do  you  think  of  Dr. 


=f4l| 


136 


BERT   LLOYDS   BOYHOOD. 


Johnston's  school  ?  How  would  you  like  to  becomo 
a  pupil  there  ?  " 

"Oh,  father,"  exclaimed  Bert,  looking  up,  with  a 
face  expressive  of  both  surprise  and  concern,  "  I'm 
not  big  enough  for  that  school.  They're  all  big  boys 
that  go  there." 

"  But  you're  a  big  boy, — for  your  age,  at  all  events, 
— Bert,"  returned  Mr.  Lloyd,  with  a  reassuring  smile, 
"  and  you'll  soon  grow  to  be  as  big  as  any  of  them." 

"  But,  fatlier,"  objected  Bert,  "  they're  awfully 
rough  there,  and  so  hard  on  tlie  new  fellows.  They 
always  hoist  them." 

"Hoist  them?"  inquired  Mr.  Lloyd.  "  What  do 
you  mean  ? 

"  Why,  they  hang  them  up  on  the  fence,  and  then 
pound  tiiem.  It  hurts  awfully.  Robbie  Simpson 
told  me  about  it.     They  hoisted  him  the  first  day." 

"  Humph  ! "  said  Mr.  Lloyd.  "  I  must  say  I  don't 
like  that,  but  at  the  worst  I  suppose  you  cnn  survive 
it,  just  as  the  others  have  done.  Is  there  any  other 
reason  why  you  wouldn't  like  to  go  to  Dr.  John- 
ston's?" 

"Well,  father,  you  know  he  has  a  dreadful  strap, 
most  a  yard  long,  and  he  gives  the  boys  dreadful 
whippings  with  it." 

"  Suppose  he  has,  Bert ;  does  he  whip  the  boys  who 
know  their  lessons,  and  behave  properly  in  school  ?  " 
asked  Mr.  Lloyd,  with  a  quizzical  glance  at  his 
son. 


Ill 


;iii'i 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


137 


10 

J1 


Bert  laughed.  "  Of  course  not,  father,"  said  he. 
"  He  only  whips  the  hoA  boys." 

"  Tlien  why  should  his  long  strap  be  an  objection, 
Bert  ?  You  don't  propose  to  be  one  of  the  bad  boys, 
dovou?" 

"  Of  course  not,  father;  but  I  might  get  a  whipping, 
all  the  same." 

"  We'll  hope  not,  Bert ;  we'll  hope  not.  And  now, 
look  here.  Would  you  like  it  any  better  going  to  Dr. 
JohiHtou's  if  Frank  were  to  go  with  you?" 

"  Oh,  yes  indeed,  father,"  exclaimed  Bert,  his  face 
lighting  up.      "  If   Frank  goes  too,  I   won't  mind 


It 


j> 


"  All  right  then,  Bert ;  I  am  glad  to  say  that  Frank 
is  going,  too.  I  went  to  see  his  father  to-day,  and  he 
agreed  to  let  hira  go,  so  I  suppose  we  may  consider 
the  matter  settled,  and  next  Monday  you  two  boys 
will  go  with  me  to  the  school."  And  Mr.  Lloyd,  evi- 
dently well-pleased  at  having  reconciled  Bert  to  the 
idea  of  the  new  school,  took  up  his  paper,  while  Bert 
went  over  to  his  mother's  side  to  have  a  talk  with  her 
ahout  it. 

]\rrs.  Lloyd  felt  all  a  mother's  anxiety  regarding  this 
new  phase  of  life  upon  which  her  boy  was  about  to 
enter.  Dr.  Johnston's  was  the  largest  and  most  re- 
nowned school  in  the  citv.  It  was  also  in  a  certain 
sense  the  most  aristocratic.  Its  master  charged  high 
rates,  which  only  well-to-do  people  could  afford,  and 
as  a  consequence  the  sons  of  the  wealthiest  citizens  at- 


■ 


^"mmmmm 


138 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


tended  his  school.  Because  of  this,  it  was  what 
would  be  called  select;  and  just  in  that  very  fact  l;iv 
one  of  the  dangers  Mrs.  Lloyd  most  dreaded,  llicli 
men's  sons  may  be  select  from  a  social  point  of  view, 
but  they  are  apt  to  be  quite  the  reverse  from  the 
moral  standpoint.  Frank  Bowser,  with  all  his  clum- 
siness and  lack  of  good  manners,  would  be  a  f:ii' 
safer  companion  than  Dick  Wilding,  the  graceful,  easy- 
mannered  heir  of  the  prosperous  bank  president. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  school  was  undoubtedly  the 
best  in  the  citv.  A  lono;  line  of  masters  had  handed 
down  from  one  to  the  other  its  fame  as  a  home  of  the 
classics  and  mathematics  with  unimpaired  lustre.  At  no 
other  school  could  such  excellent  preparation  for  the 
university  be  obtained,  and  Bert  in  due  time  was  to 
go  to  the  university.  Many  a  long  and  serious  talk 
had  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Llovd  over  the  matter.  True, 
they  had  great  confidence  in  their  boy,  and  in  the 
principles  according  to  which  they  had  sought  to 
bring  him  up.  But  then  he  was  their  only  boy,  anil 
if  their  confidence  should  perchance  be  found  to  have 
been  misplaced,  how  could  the  damage  be  repaired? 
Ah  !  well,  they  could,  after  all,  only  do  their  best,  and 
leave  the  issue  with  God.  They  could  not  always  be 
Bert's  shields.  He  must  learn  to  fight  his  own  battle?, 
and  it  was  as  well  for  him  to  begin  now,  and  at  Dr. 
Johnston's  school. 

Bert  himself  took  quite  a  serious  view  of  tiie 
matter,  too.    He  was  a  more  than  ordinarily  thought- 


ful b( 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


139 


ik1 
ive 
d? 
11(1 
be 

^^, 
iDr. 


fill  boy,  and  the  prospect  of  going  to  Dr.  Joliustou's 
made  his  brain  verv  biisv.  While  the  school  was  not 
witiiout  its  attractions  for  him,  there  were  many 
reasons  why  he  shrank  from  going  to  it.  Tl»e 
most  of  the  boys  were,  as  he  knew  from  often  seeing 
theni  when  on  his  way  to  and  from  Mr.  Garrison's, 
older  and  bigger  than  himself,  and,  still  worse,  they 
were  strangers  to  him  with  one  or  two  exceptions. 
Of  course,  since  Frank  was  to  go  with  him,  he  would 
not  mind  that  so  much,  but  it  ccnnted  for  a  good  deal, 
notwithstanding. 

Then  he  had  heard  startling  stories  of  Dr.  John- 
ston's severity  ;  of  his  keeping  boys  in  after  school  for 
a  whole  afternoon;  of  the  tremendous  whippings  he 
gave  with  that  terrible  strap  of  his,  the  tails  of  which 
had,  according  to  popular  rumor,  been  first  soaked  in 
vinegar,  and  then  studded  with  small  shot;  of  the 
rigorous  care  with  which  the  lessons  were  heard,  everv 
boy  in  the  class  having  to  show  that  he  was  well  pre- 
pared, or  to  take  the  consequences.  These,  and  other 
stories  which  had  reached  Bert's  ears,  now  perturbed 
hiin  greatly.  . 

At  the  same  time,  he  had  no  idea  of  drawing  back, 
and  pleading  with  his  father  to  send  him  somewhere 
else.  He  saw  clearly  enough  that  both  his  father  and 
mother  had  quite  made  up  their  minds  that  it  would 
be  the  best  thing  for  him,  and  h(  knew  better  than  to 
trouble  them  with  vain  protests.  He  found  his  sister 
au  inexpressible  comfort  at  this  time.     He  confided 


WT^"^^ 


140 


BERT  LLOYD  S   BOYHOOD. 


in  her  unreservedly,  and  her  sweet,  serene,  trustful 
way  of  looking  at  things  cleared  away  many  a  diffi- 
culty for  hira.  It  was  easy  to  look  at  the  bright  .side 
of  aiFairs  with  Mary  as  an  adviser,  and  the  more 
Bert  talked  with  her,  the  more  encouraged  lie  became. 
It  was  a  happy  coincidence,  that  on  the  Sunday  })re- 
ceding  Bert's  entrance  into  Dr.  Johnston's  school,  the 
lesson  for  the  Sabbath-school  should  contain  these 
ringing  words:  "Quit  you  like  men;  be  strong." 
Mr.  Silver  had  much  to  say  about  them  to  his 
class: 

"  Only  six  simple  words  of  one  syllable  each,  boys," 
said  he,  as  he  gathered  his  scholars  close  about  his 
chair,  "but  they  mean  a  great  deah  And  yet,  we  do 
not  need  to  look  into  some  wise  old  commentator  to 
tell  us  just  what  they  do  mean,  for  we  can  all  under- 
stand them  ourselves.  They  are  not  intended  solely 
for  grown-up  people,  either.  They  are  for  boys  just 
like  you.  Now,  let  us  look  into  them  a  bit.  'Quit 
you  like  men.'  What  kind  of  men,  Bert?  Any 
kind  at  all,  or  some  particular  kind?" 

"Like  good  men,  of  course,"  replied  Bert,  promptly. 

"Yes,  Bert,  that's  right.  And  what  does  it  mean 
to  quit  yourself  like  a  good  man?"  asked  Mr.  Silver, 
again. 

"To  be  always  manly,  and  not  be  a  baby,"  answered 
Walter  Thomson,  with  a  vigor  that  brought  a  smile 
to  Mr.  Silver's  face. 

"  Right  you  are,  Walter ;  but  is  that  all  ?  " 


arr 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


141 


"No,"  said  Will  Murray,  "it  means  to  do  only 
wliat  is  right." 

''Tliat's  it,  Will.  To  be  always  manly,  and  to  do 
only  what  is  right.  Now,  boys,  do  you  know  that 
vou  are  very  apt  to  confuse  these  two  things,  and  by 
forming  mistaken  notions  as  to  what  constitutes  the 
first,  vou  fail  to  do  the  second?  Manv  bovs  think 
iliat  it  is  manly  to  swear,  to  use  tobacco,  to  be  out 
lute  at  night  hanging  round  the  street  corners,  and  so 
they  do  all  these  things,  although  they  are  not  right 
tilings  to  do.  Have  they  the  right  ideas  of  manliness, 
boys?" 

"No,  sir;  no,  sir,"  answered  the  thoroughly  inter- 
ested class,  in  full  chorus. 

"No,  indeed,  boys,  they  have  not,"  continued  Mr. 
Silver.  "There  is  over  a  hundred  times  more  manliness 
in  refusing  to  form  those  bad  habits  than  in  yielding 
to  them.  And  that  is  just  the  kind  of  manline.'«  T 
want  all  the  boys  of  my  class  to  have.  *  Quit  yoa 
like  men,'  boys,  and  then,  *  be  strong.'  What  does 
that  mean?" 

"To  keep  up  your  muscle,"  spoke  out  Frank,  much 
to  the  surprise  of  everybody,  for,  although  he  listened 
attentively  enough,  he  very  rarely  opened  his  mouth 
in  the  class. 

Mr.  Silver  smiled.  It  was  not  just  the  answer  he 
wanted,  but  he  would  not  discourage  Frank  by 
savini;  so.         ,  '  ■  • 

"That's  part  of  the  answer,  but  not  quite  the  whole 


142 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


of  it,"  he  said,  after  a  pause.  "It's  a  good  thing  for 
boys  to  keep  up  tiieir  muscle.  God  wants  what  is 
best  in  this  world,  and  we  can  often  serve  him  with 
our  muscle  as  well  as  with  our  minds.  If  Sunisou 
and  Gideon  and  David  had  not  been  men  of  muscle, 
they  could  not  have  done  such  grand  work  for  God 
as  they  did.  I  like  to  see  a  boy  with  legs  and  arms 
*as  hard  as  nails,'  as  they  say.  But  the  words  *be 
strong'  here  mean  more  than  that,  don't  they,  Bert?" 

"They  mean  to  be  strong  in  resisting  temptation, 
don't  they,  Mr.  Silver?"  replied  Bert. 

"Yes;  that's  just  it.  Quit  you  like  men — be 
manly,  and  be  strong  to  resist  temptation.  Now, 
boys,  some  people  think  that  young  chaps  like  you 
don't  have  many  temptations.  That  you  have  to 
wait  until  you  grow  up  for  that.  But  it's  a  tremen- 
dous mistake,  isn't  it?  You  all  have  your  tempta- 
tions, and  lots  of  them,  too.  And  they  are  not  all 
alike,  by  any  means,  either.  Every  boy  has  his  owu 
peculiar  difficulties,  and  finds  his  own  obstacles  in  the 
way  of  right  doing.  But  the  cure  is  the  same  in  all 
cases.  It  is  to  be  strong  in  the  Lord,  and  in  the 
power  of  his  might.  That  is  the  best  way  of  all 
in  which  to  be  strong,  boys.  When  the  Philistines 
were  hard  pressed  by  the  Israelites,  they  said  one  to 
another,  *Be  strong  and  quit  yourselves  like  men  .  .  . 
quit  yourselves  like  men,  and  fight.'  And  they  fought 
so  well  that  Israel  was  smitten  before  them,  and  the  ark 
of  God  was  taken.     And  so,  boys,  whenever,  at  home, 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


143 


at  school,  or  at  play,  you  feel  temptrd  to  do  what  is 
wrung,  I  ask  you  to  reineinber  tliese  words,  'Quit 
voursclves  like  men,  be  strong,  and  figlit/  If  you 
do,  so  sure  as  there  is  a  God  in  heaveu  who  loves 
yuii  all,  you  will  come  off  conquerors." 

Mr.  Silver's  words  made  a  deep  impression  upon 
Bert.  Tlie  great  ambition  of  his  boyish  heart  was 
to  be  esteemed  manly.  Nor  was  he  entirely  free 
from  tlie  mistaken  notions  about  manliness  to  which 
his  teacher  had  referred.  He  had  more  than  once 
been  sneered  at,  bv  some  of  the  bovs  at  Mr.  Gar- 
rison's,  for  refusing  to  do  what  seemed  to  him  wrong. 
They  had  called  him  "Softy,"  and  hinted  at  his  being 
tied  to  his  mother's  apron  strings.  Then,  big,  coarse 
Bob  Brandon,  always  on  the  lookout  to  vent  his  spite, 
h:ui  nicicnamed  him  "Sugarmouth"  one  day,  because 
he  had  exolaimed  to  one  of  the  boys  who  was  pouring 
out  oatiis : 

"Oh,  Tom!  How  can  you  swear  so?  Don't  you 
know  how  wicked  it  is  to  take  God's  name  in 
vain?" 

Tliese  and  other  incidents  like  them  had  troubled 
Bert  a  good  deal.  He  dreaded  being  thought  a 
"softy,"  and  had  even  at  times  felt  a  kind  of  envy 
of  tiie  boys  whose  consciences  did  not  trouble  them 
if  tliey  swore,  or  indulged  in  sly  smokes,  or  defiled  their 
montlis  with  filthy  quids.  Mr.  Silver's  words  now 
eame  in  good  time  to  give  a  changed  current  to  these 
llioiights.     They  presented  to  his  mind  a  very  differ- 


144 


BERT  LLOYD'S   BOYHOOD. 


ent  idea  of  manliness  from  the  confused  conception 
which  had  been  his  hitherto. 

"  That's  a  good  motto  for  a  fellow,  Shorty,"  said  lie, 
as  the  two  friends  walked  home  together  from  tiie 
school.  "  Mother  asked  me  the  other  day  to  take  a 
text  for  a  motto.  I  think  I'll  take  *  Quit  you  like 
men,  be  strong.' " 

"  I  think  I  will,  too,  Bert,"  said  Frank.  "  It's  uo 
harm  if  we  have  the  same  one,  is  it  ?  " 

"  Why  no,  of  course  not,"  answered  Bert.  "  We'll 
both  have  the  same,  and  then  we'll  help  one  another 
all  we  can  to  do  what  it  says." 


i 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


THE  FIRST  DAYS  AT   DR.   JOHNSTON'S. 


W] 


IT  was  a  fine,  bright  September  morning  when  Mr. 
Lloyd,  witl)  Bert  on  one  side  of  him  and  Frank 
on  the  other — for  Frank  had  come  down,  so  that  he 
inii^ht  go  with  Bert — made  his  way  to  Dr.  Johnston's 
school.  The  school  occupied  a  historic  old  building, 
whose  weather-beaten  front  faced  one  of  the  principal 
streets  of  the  city.  Tiiis  building  had  in  times  long 
past  been  the  abode  of  the  governor  of  the  province, 
and  sadly  as  it  had  degenerated  in  appearance,  it  still 
rettiined  a  certain  dignity,  and  air  of  faded  grandeur, 
that  strongly  suggested  its  having  once  been  applied 
to  a  more  exalted  use  than  the  housing  of  a  hundred 
boys  for  certain  liours  of  the  day.  So  spacious  was 
it,  that  Dr.  Jolinston  found  ample  room  for  his  family 
in  one  half,  while  the  other  half  was  devoted  to  the  pur- 
poses of  the  school.  At  the  rear,  a  cluster  of  shabby 
onihiiildings  led  to  a  long  narrow  yard  where  tufts 
of  rank,  coarse  grass,  and  bunches  of  burdocks 
strnirgled  hard  to  maintain  their  existence  in  spite  of 
fearful  odds. 

The  boys'  hearts  were  throbbing  violently  as  Mr. 
Lloyd  rang  the  bell.     The  door  was  opened  readily  by 

a  boy,  who  was  glad  of  the  excuse  to  leave  his  seat, 

K  146 


146 


BERT  LLOYD'S   BOYHOOD. 


||i 


and  he  entered  tlie  sclioolroom,  followed  by  liis 
charges.  The  room  was  long,  narrow,  and  luw- 
ceilinged,  and  was  divided  into  two  unequal  portions 
by  a  great  chimney,  on  either  side  of  wiiich  a  pasisatie 
had  been  left.  At  the  farther  end,  occupying  the 
central  space  between  two  windows,  was  the  doctor's 
desk,  or  throne  it  might  more  properly  be  called  ;  for 
never  did  autocrat  wield  more  unquestioned  authority 
over  his  subjects  than  did  Dr.  Johnston  over  the 
liundred  and  odd  scholars  who  composed  his  school. 
In  front  of  hira,  running  down  the  centre  of  the  room, 
and  on  either  hand,  following  the  walls,  were  long 
lines  of  desks,  at  which  sat  boys  of  all  sorts,  and  of 
all  ages,  from  ten  to  eighteen.  As  Mr.  Lloyd  entereii, 
those  nearest  the  door  looked  up,  and  seeing  the  new 
comers,  proceeded  to  stare  at  them  with  a  frank  curi- 
osity that  made  Bert  feel  as  though  he  would  like  to 
hide  in  one  of  his  father's  coat-tail  pockets. 

They  turned  away  pretty  quickly,  however,  when 
Dr.  Johnston,  leaving  his  desk,  came  down  to  meet 
Mr.  Lloyd,  and  as  he  passed  between  the  lines,  every 
head  was  bent  as  busilv  over  the  book  or  slate  before 
it,  as  though  its  attention  had  never  bee",  lii.         ed. 

Considering  that  Dr.  Johnston  "  ilv  a  small, 

slight  man,  it  was  surprising  wha  idea  of  8'     iy 

dignity  his  appearance  coiiveyed.  Jle  could  hardly 
have  impressed  Bert  with  a  deeper  feelin^^  of  respect 
from  the  outset,  if  he  had  been  seven  feet  high,  in- 
stead  of  only   a   little  more  than  five.     He  was  a 


BERT  LLOYD'S   BOYHOOD. 


147 


ncet 

ery 

\)ve 

ed. 

A 

y 

i-dlv 
ipect 
i  li- 
as a 


clers^yman  of  the  Episcopal  church,  and  wore  at  all 
times  a  long  black  goNvn,  reaching  nearly  to  his 
ankles,  whicii  set  otf  to  the  hest  advantage  tlie  spare, 
.-traiirlit  fiirnre,  and  strong  dark  iace.  Tlie  habitual 
expression  of  that  face  when  in  reapose  was  of 
tliotiirlitfnl  severitv,  and  vet  if  one  did  but  scan  it 
closely  enough,  the  stern  mouth  was  seen  to  have  a 
(lowinvard  turn  at  its  corners  that  hinted  at  a  vein  of 
liiunor  lying  hid  somewhere.  The  hint  was  well- 
sustained,  for  underneath  all  his  sternness  and  sever- 
ity the  doctor  concealed  a  playful  humor,  that  at 
times  came  to  the  surface,  and  gn  .efully  relieved  his 
ordinary  grimness. 

As  he  walked  down  from  his  desk  to  meet  Mr. 
Lloyd,  he  looked  very  pleasant  indeed;  and  Bert  felt 
his  nervousness  a  little  calmed  as,  holding  out  his  thin, 
white  and  yet  muscular  hand,  Dr.  Johnston  said, 
cordially  :  .   ■  ,        '  / 

"Good-morning,  Mr.  Lloyd.  I  presume  these  are 
the  two  boys  you  spoke  to  me  about."      ,      . 

"  They  are,  Dr.  Johnston,"  Mr.  Lloyd  replied.  "I 
brought  them  in  good  time  so  that  they  might  learn 
as  much  as  possible  about  the  ways  of  the  school  the 
first  dav."  •  "  .' 

''You  did  well,  Mr.  Lloyd.  It  is  important  to  have 
a  jrood  beginning  in  everything  that  is  worth  doing," 
said  the  doctor;  then,  turning  to  Bert,  he  slipped  his 
hand  under  his  chin,  and  lifting  his  head  so  that  he 
might  look  him  full  in  the  face,  added,  with  a  smile, 


m 


WKM 


148 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


"  I  need  'nardlv  ask  which  of  these  bovs  is  vours,  fur 
this  one  betrays  his  paternity  in  every  featnre." 

"  You  have  liit  the  mark,  doctor,"  said  Mr.  Lloyd, 
smiling  in  his  turn.  "  This  is  my  son  Cuthbert,  at 
your  service,  and  this  is  Frank  Bowser,  his  insepar- 
able companion." 

"Quite  a  case  of  Damon  and  Pythias,  eh?"  said 
the  doctor,  whose  devotion  to  the  classics  was  sucli 
that  his  one  great  regret  was  that  he  had  not  lived  in 
the  time  of  Horace. 

"Yes,  fjomething  of  the  kind,"  rejoined  Mr.  Lloyd; 
"and  I  would  be  very  glad  if  you  could  manage  to 
let  them  sit  together  so  long  as  they  behave  them- 
selves." 

"We'll  see,  we'll  see,"  was  the  doctor's  non-com- 
mittal response. 

"Very  well,  then,  doctor,"  said  Mr.  Lloyd,  turning 
to  leave.  "  I'll  hand  them  over  to  you  now.  I  am 
sure  you  will  make  the  best  of  them,  and  that  I  iim 
leaving  them  in  very  good  hands.  Grod- bye,  boys." 
And  tiien,  bending  down,  he  whispered  in  Bert's  ear, 
"  Remember — quit  you  like  ni».a — be  strong,"  and  then 
left  them. 

As  Mr.  Lloyd  disappeared  through  the  door,  the  air 
of  geniality  the  doctor  had  been  wearing  during  the 
brief  interview  vanished  from  his  countenance,  and 
it  relapsed  into  its  wonted  look  of  resigned  severity. 

"  Llovd  and  Bowser  come  with  me  to  mv  desk," 
said  he,  turning  his  back  upon  them,  and  walking 


BERT  LLOYD^S   BOYHOOD. 


149 


:s." 
ear, 
hen 

air 

tlie 

and 

ritv. 

ving 


down  the  room.  The  boys  followed  very  meekly,  and 
on  arriving  at  the  desk  the  doctor  entered  their  names 
in  a  huge  book  that  lay  open  before  him,  using  an  old- 
fa:;hioued  quill  pen  that  scratched  so  harshly  as  to  send 
a  shudder  through  Bert,  who  was  very  sensitive  to 
such  things. 

'•  We  will  now  see  about  seats  for  you  both,"  con- 
tinued the  doctor.  Then,  raising  his  voice,  he  called 
out,  "Mr.  Suelling,  will  you  please  come  here,"  and 
from  the  far  end  of  the  room  a  respectful  voice  re- 
sponded *•  Yes,  sir." 

Looking  in  the  direction  whence  the  voice  came, 
Bert  saw  au  odd-looking  man  approaching,  who,  of 
course,  was  Mr.  Suelling.  He  was  of  medium  height, 
but  quite  as  slight  as  the  doctor  himself  Many  years 
at  the  sclioolmaster's  desk  had  given  a  stoop  to  his 
siioulders  and  a  pallor  to  his  face,  that  were  in  marked 
contrast  to  his  chief's  erect  fiijure  and  swarthv  couu- 
t(;i.ance.  But  if  his  face  was  pale,  his  hair  made  a 
brave  attempt  to  atone  for  this  lack  of  color,  for  it  was 
the  richest,  most  uncompromising  red ;  and  as  though 
lie  delighted  in  its  warm  tints,  Mr.  Suelling  allowed  it 
to  grow  in  uncropped  abundance,  and  his  favorite 
tresture  was  to  thrust  his  fiufjers  throuijrh  its  tanijled 
mass.  Beneath  a  white  and  narrow  forehead  were 
two  small  sharp  eyes,  that  peered  out  keenly  through 
a  pair  of  gold-bowed  spectacles,  and  were  ever  on  the 
wat(!h  to  detect  the  slightest  misbehavior  among  the 
urchins  gathered  around  him. 


U'    :   ""■ 


■•11"' 

11 

Hi 


150 


BERT   LLOYD'S   BOYHOOD. 


Bert's  first  impression  of  Mr.  Snelling  was  not  a 
favorable  one,  and  as  he  stood  by  and  heard  Dr. 
Johnston  say:  "Mr.  Snelling,  here  are  two  more 
pnpils.  This  is  Lloyd,  and  this  is  Bowser.  They 
will  go  into  your  room  for  the  present.  Will  you 
please  see  that  desks  are  assigned  them?" — he  thouirht 
to  himself  that  in  spite  of  the  doctor's  grim  appear- 
ance he  would  rather  stay  in  his  room  than  be  handed 
over  to  Mr.  Snelling.  •  $"  -'     :  - 

'  However,  he  was  not  to  be  consulted  in  the  matter, 
so  he  followed  in  the  wake  of  Mr.  Snelling,  who,  by 
the  way,  it  should  be  explained,  was  the  assistant  mas- 
ter, having  special  charge  of  all  the  younger  scholars, 
and  the  drilling  of  them  in  the  English  branches  of 
learninof.  The  classics  and  mathematics  the  doctor 
reserved  for  himself,  and  a  better  teacher  of  the  former 
particularly  there  was  not  in  all  Halifax. 

Mr.  Snelling's  portion  of  the  room  differed  from 
the  doctor's  onlv  in  that  it  was  not  so  well-li<»;hted 
and  the  seats  were  not  quite  so  comfortable.  Tiie 
school  being  pretty  full  at  the  time,  the  securing  of 
seats  for  the  two  new  comers  required  some  rearrang- 
ing, in  the  course  of  which  changes  had  to  be  made 
that  evidently  did  not  by  any  means  meet  with  the 
approbation  of  those  who  were  immediately  concerned; 
and  Bert's  spirits,  already  at  a  low  ebb,  were  not  much 
elevated  bv  sundrv  scowling^  looks  directed  at  him, 
and  by  one  red-tiiced,  irritable-looking  chap  seizing  the 
opportunity  when  Mr.  Suelling's  back  was  turned,  to 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


151 


shake  his  fist  at  Bert  and  Frank,  and  mutter  loudly 
enough  for  them  to  hear  : 

"I'll  punch  the  heads  of  you  both  at  recess,  see  if 
I  don't." 

At  length,  with  some  little  diflBculty,  Mr.  Snelling 
got  matters  arranged,  and  the  two  boys  were  placed 
in  the  farthest  corner  of  the  room,  and,  to  their  pro- 
found delight,  side  by  side.  Their  accommodations 
were  the  reverse  of  luxurious.  A  wooden  bench, 
destitute  of  back,  and  shiny  from  the  friction  of  dear 
knows  how  many  restless  sitters ;  a  sloping  desk,  cut 
and  carved  by  careless  knives,  and  having  underneath 
an  open  shelf  upou  which  the  books,  slate,  cap,  and 
lunch  might  be  put — that  was  the  sum  total.  Yet, 
after  all,  what  more  do  schoolboys  really  need,  or 
can  be  safelv  entrusted  with? 

Feeling  very  strange  and  nervous,  Bert  and  Frank 
took  their  seats,  and,  slipping  their  caps  under  the 
desk, — they  were  both  wearing  that  serviceable  form 
of  head  gear  known  as  the  Glengarry, — they  did  their 
best  to  seem  compose*.  .  and  to  take  in  their  surround- 
mg-i.  The  gaunt,  unlovely  room  was  soon  inspected, 
and  from  it  they  turned  their  attention  to  its  occupants. 
Mr.  Snelling  has  already  been  described.  To  the  left 
of  his  desk,  and  extending  row  upon  row,  one  behind 
the  other,  were  desks  filled  with  boys  of  different 
ages  and  sizes.  In  front  of  him  was  an  open  space, 
in  which  the  classes  stood  when  reciting  lessons  to 
him,  and  across  this  space  was  another  line  of  desks 


s\ 


152 


BF.RT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


placed  close  to  ti.\e  wall,  which  were  assigned  to  tlie 
oldest  bovs  in  the  room. 

Not  a  familiar  or  friendly  face  could  the  l^w 
comers  find,  but  instead,  they  saw  many  that  seemed 
to  take  pleasure  in  making  them  feel,  if  possible,  still 
more  ill  at  ease,  by  fixing  upon  them  a  cold,  indiffer- 
ent stare,  or  even  an  ugly  grimace.  Tlie  only  ray  of 
light  was  that  which  came  from  th"  sweet  countenaiu'e 
of  a  ')*ae-eyed,  fair-haired  boy,  wlio,  catching  Bert's 
eye,  nodded  pleasantly  at  him,  as  though  to  say,  '*I'in 
glad  you've  come;  make  yourself  at  home."  And 
Bert  resolved  tliat  he  would  make  his  acquaintance  at 
the  very  iirst  opportunity. 

Having  nothing  to  do  but  watch  the  other  bovs  as 
they  studied  and  recited,  the  morning  dragged  along 
verv  sloNvlv  for  Bert  and  Frank,  and  thev  were  im- 
mensely  relieved  wiien  the  noon  recess  was  announced, 
and  the  Mhole  school  poured  tumultuously  out  into 
either  the  yard  or  the  street,  according  to  their  prefer- 
ence. Tile  majority  of  the  boys  went  into  the  street, 
and  the  two  friends  followed  them,  feelimr  not  a  little 
anxious  as  to  what  sort  of  treatment  they  might  ex- 
pect at  the  hands  of  tiieir  new  companions.  As  it 
proved,  however,  they  had  notliing  to  fear,  for  it  was 
an  unwritten  law  of  the  Johnston  school,  that  new 
boys  should  be  left  in  peace  for  the  first  day ;  and 
accordingly  Frank  and  Bert  were  permitted  to  stand 
about  and  watch  the  others  enjoying  themselves  with- 
out interruption.     No  one  asked  them  to  join  in  the 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


153 


games,  although,  no  doubt,  had  they  done  so  of  their 
own  accord,  no  one  would  liave  objected.  After  they 
liad  be^n  t'lere  a  few  minutes,  Bert  heard  a  soft  voice 
behind  iiiin  saying: 

"  It's  horrid  to  be  a  new  boy,  isn't  it  ?  When  I 
was  a  new  boy  I  felt  so  frightened.  Do  you  feel 
frightened  ?  "  And  turning  round  he  saw  beside  irlni 
tiic  blue-eyed,  fair-haired  boy  whose  pleasant  face  had 
attracted  his  attention  in  the  school. 

"I  don't  think  I  feel  just  frightened,"  he  answered, 
uitli  a  smile.  "  But  I  can't  say  I  feel  very  much  at 
home  vet." 

"Oh,  my!  But  it  will  be  very  much  worse  to- 
morrow," said  the  new  acquaintance. 

"And  why  will  it  be  worse?"  inquired  Bert, 
eagerly. 

"  Because  they'll  hoist  you,"  said  the  other,  with  a 
nervous  glance  around,  as  though  he  feared  being 
overheard. 

"Does  it  hurt  dreadfully  to  be  hoisted?"  asked 
Bert,  while  Frank  drew  near,  awaiting  the  reply  with 
intense  interest. 

"  Oh,  yes ;  it  does  hurt  dreadfully !  But " — with  a 
more  cheerful  air — "you  get  over  it  after  a  little  while, 
you  know." 

"  AVell,  then,  I  guess  I  can  stand  it.  If  you  got 
over  it  all  right,  so  can  I,"  spoke  up  Bert,  manfully ; 
then,  turning  to  Frank :  "And  you  can,  too,  can't  you, 
Shorty?" 


154 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


liiil 


Frank  shook  his  head  doubtfully.  "  I  can  all  right 
enough,  but  I  donH  know  that  I  tvill.  I've  a  mind 
to  give  them  a  fight  for  it,  anyhow." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  use,"  said  the  blue-eyed  boy,  whose 
name,  by  the  way,  as  he  presently  told  the  others,  was 
Ernest  Linton.  "Not  a  bit  of  use.  They'll  only 
beat  you  the  harder  if  you  fight." 

"  We'll  see,"  said  Frank,  with  a  determined  air. 
"  We'll  see  when  the  time  comes." 

Bert  and  Frank  found  Ernest  a  very  bright  and 
useful  friend,  and  they  had  so  many  questions  to  ask 
him  that  they  were'  very  sorry  when  the  ringing  of  a 
bell  summoned  them  back  to  their  seats,  where  thoy 
were  kept  until  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  when 
school  was  over  for  the  day. 

At  home  that  evening  Bert  recounted  his  experiences 
to  three  very  attentive  listeners,  and  his  face  grew  very 
grave  when  he  came  to  tell  what  Ernest  had  said 
about  the  "hoisting."  Having  never  witnessed  a 
performance  of  this  peculiar  rite  by  which  for  many 
years  it  had  been  the  custom  of  the  school  to  initiate 
new  members,  Bert  had  no  very  clear  ideas  about  it, 
and,  of  course,  thought  it  all  the  more  dreadful  on 
that  account.  But  his  father  cheered  him  a  great  deal 
by  the  view  he  took  of  it. 

"See,  now,  Bert,"  said  he.  "It's  just  this  way. 
Every  boy  in  Dr.  Johnston's  school  has  been  hoisted, 
and  none  of  them,  I  suppose,  are  any  the  worse  for  it. 
Neither  will  you  be.     Take  my  advice  and  don't 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


155 


resist.     Let  the  boys  have  it  all  their  own  way,  and 
they'll  like  you  all  the  better,  and  let  you  off  all  the 


easier. 


» 


"Very  well,  father,  I'll  do  just  as  you  say,"  re- 
sponded Bert.  "And  when  I  come  home  to-morrow 
at'tornoon  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it."  And  feeling  in 
miicli  better  spirits  than  he  had  been  in  all  day,  Bert 
went  off  to  bed,  and  to  sleep,  as  only  a  tired  school- 
boy in  sturdy  Ivealth  can  sleep. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


THE  HOISTING. 

MRS.  LLOYD  gave  .Bert  a  more  than  usually 
affectionate  kiss  as  he  started  off  for  school 
next  morning,  and  his  father  called  after  him : 

"  Remember,  Bert,  quit  you  like  a  man." 

Yet  who  could  blame  the  little  fellow  if  his  heart 
throbbed  with  unwonted  vigor  all  that  morning,  and 
that  he  watched  the  clock's  hands  anxiously  as  they 
crept  slowly,  but  steadily,  round  the  dial,  yellow  with 
age  and  service. 

Frank  had  adopted  an  unconcerned,  if  not  defiant, 
air,  which  told  plainly  enough  that  he  had  no  idea  of 
submitting  quietly  to  the  inevitable  ordeal.  He  was 
a  born  fighter.  Strength,  endurance,  courage  were 
expressed  in  every  line  of  his  body.  Indeed,  as  was 
seen  in  the  matter  of  the  rows  between  the  Garrison 
and  the  National  boys,  he  thought  a  good  lively  tussle 
to  be  fine  fun,  and  never  missed  a  chance  of  having 
one. 

The  two  boys  were  carefully  examined  by  both  Dr. 
Johnston  and  Mr.  Snelling  as  to  the  extent  of  their 
learning  in  the  course  of  the  morning,  and  assigned  to 
classes  accordingly.  They  were  given  the  same  work : 
English  grammar  and  history,  arithmetic,  geography, 
156 


■««IP1 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


157 


Latin  grammar,  etc.,  and  a  list  given  them  of  the 
books  they  would  need  to  procure.  Tliey  were  glad 
to  fiiul  themselves  in  the  same  classes  with  Ernest 
Linton,  who  had  been  only  half  a  year  at  the  school 
before  them,  for  he  seemed  such  a  kind,  willing, 
obliging  little  chap  that  they  both  became  fond  of 
him  at  once. 

^\'llen  recess  came  he  slipped  up  to  Bert  and 
whispered  in  his  ear: 

"►"^tay  in  school,  and  then  they  can't  get  at  you. 
]\Ir.  Snclling  always  stays,  and  they  daren't  come  iu 
for  you." 

"Xot  a  bit  of  it,'^  said  Bert,  emphatically.  "The 
sooner  it's  over  the  better.  Come  along,  Shorty." 
And  they  marched  bravely  out,  with  Ernest  following 
closely  behind. 

As  they  stepped  into  the  street,  they  found  fifty  or 
more  of  the  boys  gathered  about  the  door,  evidently 
awaiting  them.  Instantly  the  cry  was  raised,  "The 
new  boys — hoist  them!  hoist  them!"  And  half  a 
dozen  hands  were  laid  upon  Bert,  who  led  the  van, 
while  others  seized  Frank  to  prevent  his  running 
awav.  Bert  made  no  resistance.  Neither  did  Frank, 
when  he  saw  that  his  time  had  not  yet  come,  as  they 
were  going  to  hoist  Bert  first.  Clinching  his  fists, 
and  hunching  his  shoulders  in  readiness  for  a  struggle, 
he  stood  in  silence  watching  Bert's  fate. 

AVhat  that  would  be  was  not  long  a  matter  of  un- 
certainty.    In  the  midst  of  a  noisy  rabble  of  boys, 


",-;TTT"— 


158 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


many  of  whom  were  larger,  and  all  older  than  him- 
self, he  was  borne  along  to  the  foot  of  the  high  fence 
that  shut  in  the  yard  which,  as  already  described,  was 
at  the  back  of  the  school  building.     Perched  on  top 
of  this   fence,  and   leaning   down   with   out«tretchc(l 
arras,  were  four  of  the  largest  lads,  shouting  at  the 
top  of  their  voices,  "Bring  him  along;  hoist  liini  up, 
hoist  hira!"     The  unresisting  Bert  was  brought  un- 
derneath this  quartette,  and  then  his  hands  were  lifted 
up  until  they  could  grasp  them  in  their  own.     So  soon 
as  this  was  done,  a  pull  all  together  on  their  part 
hoisted  hira  up  from  the  ground,  three  feet  at  lea:^t, 
and  tiien  his  legs  were  seized,  lest  he  should  be  tenij)t(Ml 
to  kick.     The  next  moment,  as  perfectly  helpless,  anil 
looking  not  unlike  a  hawk  nailed  to  a  barn  door  by 
way  of  warning  to  kindred  robbers,  Bert  hung  there, 
doing  his  best  to  keep  a  smile  on  his  face,  but  in 
reality,  half  frightened  to  death.  The  whole  crowd  then 
precipitated  themselves  upon  hira,  and  >vith  tiglit-slint 
fists,  proceeded  to  pummel  any  part  of  his  body  they 
could  reach.     Their  blows  were  dealt  in  good  earnest, 
and  not  merely  for  fun,  and  they  hurt  just  as  much  as 
one  might  expect.     Poor  Bert  winced,  and  quivered, 
and  squirmed,  but  not  a  cry  escaped  from  his  close- 
set  lips.     The  one  thought  in  his  mind  was,  ''  Quit 
you  like  men,"  and  so  buoyed  up  by  it  was  he,  that 
had  the  blows  been  as  hard  again  as  they  were,  it  is 
doubtful  if  his  resolution  to   bear  them   in  silence 
would  have  faltered. 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


159 


He  (lid  not  know  how  long  he  hung  there.  It 
seemed  to  him  like  hours.  It  probably  was  not 
longer  than  a  minute.  But,  oh !  the  glad  relief  with 
wliich  he  heard  one  of  the  leaders  call  out: 

"That's  enough,  fellows;  let  him  down.  He  stood 
it  like  a  brick." 

The  blows  ceased  at  once ;  those  holding  his  hands 
.swung  him  a  couple  of  times  along  the  fence  after  the 
manner  of  a  j^endulum,  and  then  dropped  him  to  the 
gruund,  where  he  was  surrounded  by  his  late  perse- 
cutors, who  now,  looking  pleasant  enough,  proceeded 
to  clap  him  on  tiie  back,  and  tell  him  very  emphatic- 
ally that  he  was  "a  plucky  little  chap";  'one  of  the 
right  sort";  "true  grit,"  and  so  forth. 

Feeling  sore  and  strained  from  his  neck  to  his  heels, 
Bert  would  have  been  glad  to  slip  away  into  some 
corner  and  have  a  good  cry,  just  to  relieve  his  sup- 
pressed emotions;  but  as  he  tried  to  separate  himself 
from  the  throng  about  him,  he  heard  the  shout  of 
"  Hoist  him  !  Hoist  him  I "  again  raised,  and  saw  tlie 
leaders  in  this  strange  sport  bear  down  upon  Frank 
Bowser,  who.  still  in  the  hands  of  his  first  captors  had 
looked  on  at  Bert's  ordeal  with  rapidly  rising  anger. 

The  instant  Frank  heard  the  shout,  he  broke  loose 
from  those  who  held  him,  and  springing  up  a  fligiit 
of  steps  near  by,  stood  facing  his  pursuers  with  an 
expression  upon  his  countenance  that  looked  ill  for 
the  first  that  should  attempt  to  touch  him.  A  little 
daunted  by  his  unexpected  action,  the  boys  paused  for 


t. 


160 


BERT   LLOYD  S   BOYHOOD. 


a  moment,  and  then  swarmed  about  the  steps.  One 
of  the  largest  rushed  forward  to  seize  Frank,  but  with 
a  quick  movement  tlie  latter  dodged  him,  and  tlien  bv 
a  sudden  charge  sent  him  tumbling  down  the  .steps 
into  the  arms  of  the  others.  But  the  advantage  was 
onlv  momentarv.  In  another  minute  he  was  sur- 
rounded,  and  borne  down  the  steps  despite  his  resist- 
ance. 

The  struggle  that  ensued  was  really  heroic — on 
Frank's  part,  at  all  events.  Although  so  absurdly 
outnumbered,  he  fought  desperately,  not  with  blows, 
but  with  sheer  strength  of  arm  and  leg,  straining  to 
the  utmost  every  muscle  in  his  sturdy  frame.  Indeed, 
so  tremendous  were  his  efforts,  that  for  a  time  it  seemed 
as  if  thev  would  succeed  in  freeinjr  him.  But  the 
might  of  numbers  prevailed  at  length,  and  after  some 
minutes  further  struggling,  he  was  hoisted  in  due  form, 
and  pounded  until  the  boys  were  fairly  weary. 

When  they  let  him  go,  Frank  adjusted  his  clothes 
which  had  been  much  disordered  in  the  conflict,  took 
his  cap  from  the  hands  of  a  little  chap,  by  whom  it 
had  thoughtfully  been  picked  up  for  him,  and  with 
furious  flaming  face  went  over  to  Bert,  who  had  been 
a  spectator  of  his  friend's  gallant  struggle  with  min- 
gled feelings  of  admiration  for  his  courage  and  regret 
at  his  obstinacy. 

"  They  beat  me,  but  I  made  thera  sweat  for  it,"  said 
he.  "  I  wasn't  going  to  let  them  have  their  own  way 
with  me,  even  if  you  did." 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


161 


"You  might  just  as  well  have  given  in  first  as 
last,"  ivplic'tl  Bt'i't. 

''  But  I  didn't  give  in,"  asserted  Frank.  "  Tiiat's 
just  the  point.  They  were  too  many  for  me,  of  course, 
juui  I  couldn't  help  myself  at  last,  but  I  held  out  as 
luiij;  as  I  could." 

'•Anyway,  it's  over  now,"  said  Bert,  ^'and  it  won't 
hotjjer  us  anv  more.  But  there's  one  thinjj:  I've  made 
lip  iny  mind  to:  I'm  not  going  to  have  anything  to  do 
with  hoisting  other  new  boys.  I  don't  like  it,  and  I 
won't  do  it." 

"No  more  will  I,  Bert,"  said  Frank.  "It's  a  mean 
husiness;  a  whole  crowd  of  fellows  turning  on  one 
and  beating  him  like  that." 

Just  then  the  bell  rang,  and  all  the  boys  poured 
hack  into  the  schoolroom  for  the  afternoon  session. 

Each  in  his  own  way,  Bert  and  Frank  had  made  a 
(Iccidodly  favorable  impression  upon  their  schoolmates. 
Xo  one  mistook  Bert's  passive  endurance  for  cowardice. 
His  hearing  had  been  too  brave  and  bright  for  that. 
Neither  did  Frank's  vigorous  resistance  arouse  any  ill 
feelinn;  as^ainst  him.  Bovs  are  odd  creatures.  Thev 
heartily  admire  and  applaud  the  fiery,  reckless  fellow, 
who  takes  no  thouglit  for  the  consequences,  and  yet 

•eciate  the  nuiet,  cool  self-com- 


appri 


niand  of  the  one  who  does  not  move  until  he  knows 
jii-t  what  he  is  going  to  do.  And  so  they  were  well 
phased  with  both  the  friends,  and  quite  ready  to  admit 
tiiem  into  the  full  fellowship  of  the  school. 


til; 


162 


BERT  LLOYD  S   BOYHOOD. 


The  Lloyds  were  greatly  interested  by  Bert's  ac- 
count of  tlie  iioisting.  They  praised  hin"  t'^**  iiis  sell- 
control,  and  Frank  for  his  plucky  fight  against  sucij 
odds,  and  they  fully  agreed  with  Bert  that  hoisting 
vas  a  poor  business  at  best,  and  that  he  would  be 
doing:  ri.tjht  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  it. 

"  Perhaps  some  day  or  other  you'll  be  able  to  have 
it  put  a  stop  to,  Bert,"  said  his  mother,  patting  iiis 
head  fondly.  "  It  would  make  me  ve.'v  proud,  if 
mv  bov  were  to  become  a  reformer  before  he  leaves 
school." 

"I'm  afraid  there's  not  much  chance  of  tliat, 
mother,''  answered  Bert.  "The  bovshave  been  hoist- 
ing  the  new  chaps  for  ever  so  many  years,  and  Dr. 
Johnston  has  never  stopped  tnem." 

That  was  true.  Although  he  feigned  to  know  noth- 
ing about  it,  the  doctor  was  well  aware  of  the  existence 
of  this  practice  peculiar  to  his  school,  but  he  never 
thought  of  interfering  with  the  boys.  It  was  a  cardinal 
principle  with  him  that  the  boys  should  be  left  pretty 
much  to  themselves  at  recess.  So  long  as  they  did 
their  duty  during  the  school  hours,  they  could  do  as 
they  pleased  during  the  play  hour.  Moreover,  he 
was  a  great  admirer  of  manliness  in  his  boys.  He 
would  have  been  Had  to  find  in  everv  owi  of  them 
the  stoical  indifference  to  pain  of  the  traditional  In- 
dian. Consequently,  fair  stand-up  fights  were  wiidied 
at,  and  anything  like  tattling  or  tale  bearing  sternly 
discouraged.     He  had  an  original  method  of  express- 


BERT   LLOYD'h   BOYHOOD. 


1G3 


\\)^  his  disapprobation  of  the  latter,  which  will  be 
illustrated  farther  on.  Holding  those  views,  therefore, 
he  was  not  likely  to  put  his  veto  upon  "hoisting." 

As  the  days  went  by,  Bert  rapidly  mastered  the 
wavs  of  the  school,  and  made  manv  friends  anion": 
his  schoolmates.  He  found  the  lessons  a  good  deal 
lianier  than  thev  had  been  at  Mr.  Garrison's.  And 
not  only  so,  but  the  method  of  hearing  them  was  so 
thorough  that  it  was  next  to  impossible  for  a  boy  who 
had  come  ill-prepared  to  escaped  detection.  Dr.  Jolin- 
ston  did  not  simply  hear  the  lesson  ;  he  examined  his 
scholars  upon  it,  and  nothing  short  of  fidl  acquaint- 
ance with  it  would  content  him.  He  had  an  original 
system  of  keeping  the  school  record,  which  puzzled 
Bert  verv  much,  and  took  him  a  i^ood  while  to  under- 
stand. 

On  the  doctor's  desk  lav  a  lar^-e  book,  somethintj 
like  a  bu.-iness  ledger.  One  page  was  devoted  to  each 
(lay.  At  the  left  side  of  the  page  \'?s  the  cohnnii 
containins:  the  bovs'  names  arranj^ed  in  order  of 
?etiiuritv,  the  bov  who  had  been  lontrest  in  the  school 
lieinir  at  the  head,  and  the  last  new  bov  at  the  foot. 
K:ich  bov  had  a  line  to  himself,  running  out  to  the 
end  of  the  page,  and  these  parallel  lines  were  crossed 
l)v  vertical  ones,  ruled  from  the  top  to  the  bottom  of 
the  juige,  and  having  at  the  top  the  names  of  all  the 
dilferent  classes  ;  so  that  the  page  when  ready  for  its 
entries  resembled  very  much  a  checker  board,  only 
that  the  squares   were  very    small,   and  exceedingly 


164 


BERT  LLOYD  S   BOYHOOD. 


numerous.  Just  how  these  squares,  tlius  stand iii£^ 
opposite  each  name,  should  be  filled,  depended  upon 
the  behavior  of  the  owner  of  that  name,  and  his 
knowledge  of  his  lessons. 

If  Bert,  for  instance,  recited  his  grammar  lesson 
"without  a  slip,  the  letter  B — standing  for  bene,  well — 
was  put  in  the  grammar  column.  If  he  made  oiig 
mistake,  the  entrv  was  V  B,  vix  bene — scarcelv  well ; 
if  two  mistakes,  Med,  wecZioc?*iVer — middling;  and  if 
three,  M,  male — badly,  equivalent  to  not  knowing  it 
at  all.  The  same  system  prevailed  for  all  the  lessons, 
and  in  a  modified  form  for  the  behavior  or  deport- 
ment also.  As  regards  behavior,  the  arrangement 
was  one  bad  mark  for  each  offense,  the  first  constitut- 
ing a  V  B,  the  second  a  Med,  the  third  an  M,  aiid  the 
fourth  a  P,  tlie  most  ominous  letter  of  all,  standing, 
as  it  did,  for  pesslme — as  bad  as  possible — and  one 
might  also  say  for  punishment  also;  as  whoever  got 
a  P  thereby  earned  a  whipping  with  that  long  strap, 
concerning  which  Bert  had  heard  such  alarmiii.' 
stories. 

It  will  be  seen  that  by  following  out  the  line  upon 
which  each  boy's  name  stood,  his  comj^lete  record  as  a 
scholar  could  be  seen,  and  upon  this  record  the  doctor 
based  the  award  of  prizes  at  the  close  of  the  term. 
For  he  was  a  firm  believer  in  the  benefits  of  ori/e- 
giving,  and  every  half  year,  on  the  day  before  the 
holidays,  a  bookc^isc  full  of  fine  books,  each  duly 
inscribed,  was  distributed  among  those  who  had  coiae 


B( 

pcctcf 

grim 

reply 

"\^ 

turnii 

"I 

ful  Uj 

than  n 

yi^Q  ta 


BERT  LLOYD  S   BOYHOOD. 


165 


as  a 
loi'tor 
Iterni. 
'U'i/e- 
ic  tlic 

duly 


out  at  tlie  head  in  the  diiferent  classes,  or  distinguished 
themselves  bv  constant  good  behavior. 

Once  that  Bert  fully  understood  tlie  purpose  of  this 
daily  record,  and  the  principle  upon  which  the  prize 
giving  was  based,  he  determined  to  be  among  the 
prize  Avinners  at  the  end  of  the  term.  His  ambition 
was  fired  by  what  the  ohler  boys  told  him  of  the 
beautiful  books  awarded,  and  the  honor  it  was  to  get 
one  of  them.  He  knew  that  he  could  not  j)lcase  his 
father  or  mother  better  than  by  being  on  the  prize 
list,  and  so  he  applied  hiriself  to  his  lessons  with  a 
vlijor  and  fidelity  that  soon  brought  him  to  the  notice 
of  the  observant  doctor. 

''  I  am  glad  to  see  you  taking  so  much  interest  in 
your  work,"  said  he  one  morning,  ])ausing,  in  his 
roiuid  of  inspection,  to  lay  his  hand  kindly  upon 
Bert's  shoulder  as  the  latter  bent  over  his  slate,  work- 
iiit^  out  a  problem  in  proportion.  "A  good  beginning 
is  a  very  important  thing." 

Bert  blushed  to  the  roots  of  his  hair  at  this  unex- 
pected and,  indeed,  unusual  compliment  from  tiie 
<rriui  master,  who,  before  the  boy  could  frame  any 
ix'i^ly,  passed  out  of  hearing. 

"  We'll  do  our  best,  won't  Ave,  Shorty  ?  "  said  Bert, 
turning  to  his  friend  beside  him. 

"  I  suppose  so,"  answered  Finnk,  in  rather  a  doubt- 
ful tune.  "  But  your  best  will  be  a  ii;ood  deal  better 
than  mine.  The  lessoi\s  are  just  awful  liard ;  it's  no 
use  talking." 


I^s. 


fl! 


166 


BERT  LLOYD^S   BOYHOOD. 


"They  are  hard,  Shorty,  and  no  mistake.  But 
you'll  get  used  to  them  all  right,"  rejoined  Bert, 
cheerfully. 

"  I  guess  I'll  get  used  to  being  kept  in  and  getting 
whipped,  first,"  grumbled  Frank. 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,"  Bert  insisted.  "You  just  stick 
at  them  and  you'll  come  out  all  right." 

The  fact  of  the  matter  was,  that  poor  Frank  did 
find  the  lessons  a  little  more  than  he  could  manage, 
and  there  were  a  good  many  more  "VB's"  and 
"  Med's  "  opposite  his  name  tiian  "  B's."  He  waf>  a 
restless  sort  of  a  chap,  moreover,  and  noisy  in  his 
movements,  thus  often  causing  Mr.  Snelling  to  look 
at  him,  and  call  out  sharply  : 

"  Bowser,  what  are  you  doing  there  ?  "  And  Frank 
would  instantly  reply,  in  a  tone  of  indignant  innocence : 

"  Nothing,  sir." 

Whereupon  Mr.  Snelling  would  turn  to  Dr.  John- 
ston, with  the  request : 

"  Will  you  please  put  a  mark  to  Bowser  for  doing 
nothing,  sir  ?  "  And  down  would  go  the  black  nuu  k 
against  poor  Bowser,  who,  often  as  this  hapi)en((l, 
seemed  unable  ever  to  learn  to  avoid  that  fatal  icpl}' : 
"  Nothing,  sir." 


CHAPTER  XYIII. 


SCHOOL  EXPERIENCES. 


BY  the  time  autumn  had  made  way  for  winter, 
Bert  felt  thoroughly  at  home  at  Dr.  Johnston's, 
and  was  just  about  as  happy  a  boy  as  attended  this 
renowned  institution.  In  spite  of  the  profound  awe 
the  doctor  inspired,  he  ventured  to  cherish  toward  him 
a  fooling  of  love  as  well  as  of  respect ;  and  although 
!Mr.  SncUing  did  not  exactly  inspire  awe,  nor  even 
much  respect,  he  managed  to  like  him  not  a  little 
also.  As  for  the  boys — well,  there  were  all  sorts  and 
conditions  of  them;  good,  bad,  and  indillerent;  boys 
who  thought  it  very  fine  and  manly  t.o  smoke,  and 
swoar,  and  swap  improper  stories,  and  boys  who 
secmod  as  if  they  had  been  more  appropriately  dressed 
in  girls'  clothes,  so  lacking  were  they  in  true  manly 
qualitios;  while  between  these  two  extremes  came  in 
the  great  majority,  among  whom  Bert  easily  Ibund 
plonty  of  bright,  wholesome  companions. 

Tliere  were  some  odd  chaps  at  the  school,  with  whose 
peculiarities  Bert  would  amuse  the  borne  circle  very 
much,  as  he  described  them  in  ids  own  graphic  way. 
Tliore  was  Bob  Mackasey,  called  by  his  companions, 
"Taffy  the  Welshman,"  because  lie  applied  the  money 
given  him  by  his  mother  every  mornjr**^  to  get  some 


168 


BERT  LI.OYD  S  BOYHOOD. 


lunch  with  to  the  purchase  of  taffy ;  which  toothsi  »niG 
product  he  easily  bartered  off  for  more  sandwiches 
and  cakes  than  could  have  been  bought  for  ten  cents, 
thus  filling  his  own  stomach  at  a  very  slight  cost  to  his 
far-seeing  mother. 

A  big  fat  fellow  in  knickerbockers,  by  name  ILirry 
Rawdon,  the  son  of  an  officer  in  the  English  army, 
had  attained  a  peculiar  kind  of  notoriety  in  the  school, 
by  catching  flies  and  bottling  them. 

Then  there  was  Larry  Saunders,  the  dandy  of  the 
school,  although  undoubtedly  one  of  the  very  plainest 
boys  in  it,  who  kept  a  tiny  square  of  looking  glass  iu 
his  desk,  and  would  carefully  aiTange  his  toilet  before 
leaving  the  school  in  the  afternoon,  to  saunter  up  and 
down  the  principal  street  of  the  city,  doing  his  best 
to  be  captivating. 

Two  hot-tempered,  pugnacious  chaps,  by  name  Bub 
Morley  and  Fred  Short,  afforded  great  amusement  by 
the  ease  with  which  they  could  be  set  at  punching  one 
another.  It  was  only  necessary  for  some  one  to  take 
Bob  Merely  aside  and  whisper  meaningly  that  Fred 
Short  had  been  calling  him  names  behind  his  back, or 
something  ofthatsort  equally  aggravating,  to  put  him  in 
fighting  humor.  Fortliwith,  he  would  challenge  Mas- 
ter Fred  in  the  orthodox  way — that  is,  he  would  take 
up  a  chip,  spit  on  it,  and  toss  it  over  his  shoulder. 
Without  a  moment's  hesitation,  Fred  would  accept 
the  challenge,  and  then  the  two  would  be  at  it,  ham- 
mer and  tongs,  fighting  vigorously  until  they  were 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


1G9 


OlllC 

dies 


red 


separated  by  the  originators  of  the  mischief,  when  they 
thoiidit  thev  iiatl  had  enough  of  it.  Tiiev  were  verv 
evenly  matched,  and  as  a  matter  of  fact  did  not  do 
one  anotiier  much  liarm;  but  tiie  joke  of  tlie  thing 
was  that  they  never  seemed  to  suspect  how  they  were 
beinsj  made  tools  of  bv  the  other  bovs,  who  alwavs 
enjoyed  these  duels  immensely. 

Another  character,  and  a  verv  lovable  one  this 
time,  was  a  nephew  of  the  doctor's,  Will  Johnston  by 
name,  but  universally  called  "Teter,"  an  odd  nick- 
name, the  reason  of  which  he  did  not  seem  to  under- 
stand himself.  This  Teter  was  one  of  those  good- 
natured,  obliging,  reckless,  happy-go-lucky  individuals 
who  never  fail  to  win  the  love  of  bovs.  His  gen- 
erosity  was  equaled  only  by  his  improvidence,  and 
both  were  surpassed  by  his  good  luck. 

Bert  conceived  a  great  admiration  for  Teter  John- 
ston. His  undaunted  courage,  as  exhibited  in  snow- 
ball fights,  when,  with  only  a  handful  of  followers 
he  would  charge  upon  the  rest  of  the  school,  and 
generally  put  them  to  flight;  his  reckless  enterprise 
and  amazing  luck  at  marbles  and  other  games;  his 
constant  championing  of  the  small  boys  when  tor- 
nK^nted  by  the  larger  ones,  more  than  one  bully  having 
had  a  tremendous  thrashing  at  his  hands; — these 
were  very  shining  qualities  in  Bert's  eyes,  and  they 
fascinated  him  so,  that  if  "fagging"  liad  been  per- 
mitted at  Dr.  Johnston's,  Bert  would  have  deemed  it 
not  a  hardship,  but  an  lionor,  to  have  been  Teter's"fag.'* 


liilii 


170 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


II 


In  strong  contrast  to  liis  admiration  for  Toter  Jolni- 
ston  was  his  antipathy  to  Rod  Graham.  Rod  was 
botli  a  snealv  and  a  bullv.'  It  was  in  his  character  as 
a  sneak  that  he  sliowed  himself  to  Bert  first,  makini,^ 
profuse  demonstrations  of  good-will,  and  doing  his  best 
to  ingratiate  himself  with  him,  because  from  his  well- 
to-do  appearance  he  judged  that  he  would  be  a  good 
subject  from  whom  to  beg  lunch,  or  borrow  marbles. 
and  so  on.  But  Bert  instinctively  disliked  Rod,  and 
avoided  him  to  the  best  of  his  abilit\'.  Then  Rcxl 
revealed  the  other  side  of  his  nature.  From  a  sneak 
he  turned  into  a  bully,  and  lost  no  opportunity  of 
teasing  and  tormenting  Bert,  who,  being  much  smaller 
than  he,  felt  compelled  to  submit,  although  there  were 
times  when  he  was  driven  almost  to  desperation.  It 
was  not  so  much  by  open  violence  as  by  underhanded 
trickery  that  Rod  vented  his  spite,  and  this  made  it 
all  the  harder  for  Bert,  who,  although  he  was  never 
in  any  doubt  as  to  the  identity  of  the  person  that  stole 
his  lunch,  poured  ink  over  his  copy  book,  scratched 
his  slate  with  a  bit  of  jagged  glass,  tore  the  tails  oif 
his  glengarry,  and  filled  the  pockets  of  his  overcoat 
with  snow,  still  saw  no  way  of  putting  a  stop  to  this 
tormentinsj  other  than  bv  thrash i nor  Rod,  and  this 
he  did  not  feel  equal  to  doing.  Upon  this  last  point, 
however,  he  changed  his  mind  subsequently,  thanks  to 
the  influence  of  his  friend  Teter  Johnson,  and  the 
result  was  altogether  satisfactory  as  will  be  shown  iu 
due  time. 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


171 


Bort's  feelings  toward  Dr.  Johnstou  himself  were, 
as  lui.s  been  already  stated,  of  a  mixed  nature.  At 
lirst,  he  was  simply  afraid  of  him,  but  little  by  little 
a  gentler  feeling  crept  into  his  heart.  Yet  there  was 
no  doubt  the  doctor  was  far  more  likely  to  inspire  fear 
than  love.  He  wielded  his  authority  with  an  impar- 
tial, uns})aring  hand.  No  allowance  was  ever  made 
for  hesitancy  or  nervousness  on  the  part  of  the  scholar 
when  reciting  his  lesson,  nor  for  ebullitions  of  boyish 
.spirits  when  sitting  at  the  desk.  "  Everything  must 
i)e  done  correctly,  and  in  order,"  was  the  motto  of  his 
rule.  The  whippings  he  administered  were  about  as 
impressive  a  mode  of  school  punishment  as  could  be 
desired.  The  unhappy  boy  who  had  behaved  so  ill, 
or  missed  so  many  lessons  as  to  deserve  one,  heard  the 
awful  words  "Stand  upon  the  floor  for  punishment," 
uttered  in  the  doctor's  sternest  tones.  Trembling  in 
every  limb,  and  feeling  cold  shivers  running  up  and 
(]()wn  his  back,  while  his  face  flushed  fiery  red,  or 
paled  to  ashy  white  by  turns,  the  cidprit  would  re- 
liictantlv  leave  his  seat,  and  take  his  stand  in  the  cen- 
tial  aisle,  with  the  eyes  of  the  whole  school  upon  him 
variously  expressing  pity,  compassion,  or  perhaps  un- 
sympathetic ridicule. 

After  he  had  stood  there  some  time,  for  be  it  known 
this  exposure  was  an  essential  part  of  the  punishment, 
he  would  see  the  doctor  slowly  rise  from  his  seat,  draw 
forth  from  its  hiding  place  the  long  black  strap  that 
had  for  so  many  years  been  his  sceptre,  and  then 


172 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


;5  I 


come  down  toward  him  witli  slow,  stately  steps.  Stop- 
ping just  in  front  of  him,  the  order  would  he  issued  : 
"Hold  out  your  hand."  Quivering  with  apprelien- 
sion,  the  bov  would  extend  his  hand  but  half  wav, 
keeping  his  elbow  fast  at  his  side.  But  the  doctor 
would  not  be  thus  partiallv  obeved.  "  Hold  out  vonr 
hand,  sir!"  he  would  thunder,  and  out  would  go  the 
arm  to  its  fullest  length,  and  with  a  sharp  swi>h 
through  the  air,  down  would  come  the  strap,  covering 
the  hand  from  the  wrist  to  finger  tip,  and  sendiiiij;  a 
thrill  of  agony  through  every  nerve  in  the  body. 
Ten,  twenty,  thirty,  or  in  extreme  cases,  even  forty 
such  stripes  would  be  administered,  some  boys  taking 
them  as  fast  as  the  doctor  could  strike,  so  that  the 
torture  might  soon  be  over,  and  others  pausing  bn- 
tween  each  blow,  to  rub  their  stinging  palms  together, 
and  bedew  them  with  their  tears. 

It  was  a  terrible  ordeal,  no  doubt,  and  one  that 
would  hardly  be  approved  of  to-day,  the  publicity 
uniting  with  the  severity  to  make  it  a  cruel  strain 
upon  a  boy's  nervous  system.  In  all  the  years  tliat 
Bert  spent  at  Dr.  Johnston's  school  he  was  called  upon 
to  endure  it  onlv  once,  but  that  once  sufficed.  Tii6 
way  it  came  about  was  this : 

Bert  one  morning  happened  to  be  in  a  more  than 
usually  frolicsome  mood,  and  was  making  pellets 
out  of  the  soft  part  of  the  rolls  he  had  brought  for 
lunch,  and  throwing  them  about.  In  trying  to  hit  a 
boy  who  sat  between  him  and  Mr.  Saelling's  desk, 


C) 


.S( 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhc)od. 


173 


lie  somehow  or  other  miscalculated  his  aim,  aiul  to  his 
horror,  the  sticky  pellet  Hew  straight  at  the  halil  spot 
on  top  of  Mr.  Snelling'.s  head,  as  the  latter  bent  liis 
shortsighted  eyes  over  a  book  before  liim,  hitting  it 
sqtuirely  in  the  centre,  and  staying  there  in  token  of 
its  success. 

With  angry  face,  Mr.  Snelling  sprang  to  his  feet, 
and  brushing  the  unlucky  pellet  from  iiis  shiny  pate, 
called  out  so  fiercely  as  to  attract  the  doctor's  attention  : 

'•  Who  threw  that  at  me?  " 

Tlie  few  bovs  who  were  iu  the  secret  looked  verv 
hard  at  their  books,  while  those  who  were  not  glanced 
up  in  surprise,  and  tried  to  discover  the  cause  of  Mr. 
Snelling's  excitement. 

"  Who  threw  that  at  me?"  demanded  Mr.  Snell- 
iiiir  again. 

Jjort,  who  had  at  first  been  so  appalled  by  what  he 
had  done  that  his  tongue  refused  to  act,  was  abcut  to 
cull  out  "It  was  I,  sir,"  when  Rod  Graham  was 
seen  t(^  hold  up  his  hand,  and  on  Mr.  Snelling  turn- 
ing inquiringly  toward  iiim,  Rod,  in  a  low,  sneaking 
voice,  said  : 

"It  was  Lloyd,  sir;  I  saw  him  do  it." 

Mr.  Snelling  immediately  called  out,  ''Lloyd,  come 
to  my  desk  ;  and  Bert,  feeling  hot  and  cold  by  turns, 
went  up  to  the  desk,  and  stood  before  it  the  picture 
of  penitence. 

"Did  you  throw  that  pellet?  "  asked  Mr.  Snelling, 
ill  indignant  tones. 


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174 


BEBT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


"  Yes,  sir ;  but  I  didn't  mean  to  hit  you,  sir," 
answered  Bert,  meekly. 

"  I  know  nothing  about  that,"  answered  Mr.  Snell- 
ing,  too  much  excited  to  listen  to  any  defense.  "  Fol- 
low me  to  Dr.  Jolmston." 

Hastening  into  the  presence  of  the  stern  headmaster, 
Mr.  Snellitig  stated  what  had  happened,  aud  pointed 
to  the  treiijbiing  Bert  as  the  culprit. 

"  How  do  you  know  he  is  the  offender,  Mr.  Suell- 
ing?"  inquired  the  doctor,  gravely. 

"Graham  said  lie  saw  him  do  it,  sir,  and  Llovd 
confesses  it  himself,"  replied  Mr.  Siielling. 

"  Oh  I  indeeil — that  is  sufficient.  Leave  Lloyd 
with  me."  And  thus  dismissed,  Mr.  Snelling  returned 
to  his  dcik. 

"Llovd,  I  am  sorrv  about  this.  You  must  stand 
upon  the  floor  for  punishment,"  said  thp  doctor,  turn- 
ing to  Bert ;  and  Bert,  chilled  to  the  heart,  took  his 
place  upon  the  spot  where  he  had  so  often  pitied  other 
boys  for  being. 

Presently,  drawing  out  his  strap,  the  doctor  came 
toward  him  : 

"  Hold  out  your  hand,  sir. 

Bert  promptly  extended  his  right  hand  to  the  full. 
Swish  !  and  down  came  the  cruel  strap  ujwn  it,  in- 
flicting a  burning  smart,  as  though  it  were  a  retl-hot 
iron^  and  sending  a  thrill  of  agony  through  every 
nerve.  Swish !  And  the  left  hand  was  set  on 
fire.     Swish  I    Swish  I    right  aud  left ;    right   and 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


176 


left,  until  twenty  stripes  had  been  administered ;  and 
then,  turning  on  ills  heel,  the  doctor  walked  solemnly 
back  to  his  desk. 

During  all  this  torture  not  a  sound  had  escaped 
Bert.  He  felt  that  the  doctor  could  not  do  other- 
wise than  punish  him,  and  he  determined  to  beir 
the  punishment  bravely ;  so  closing  his  lips  tightly, 
und  summoning  all  his  resolution,  he  held  out  one 
hand  after  the  other,  taking  the  blows  as  fast  as  the 
doctor  could  give  them.  But  when  the  ordeal  was 
over  he  hurried  to  his  seat,  and  burying  his  head  in 
his  burning  hands,  burst  into  a  passion  of  teai-s — for 
he  could  control  himself  no  longer. 

A  few  minutes  later  his  attention  was  aroused  hv 
hearing  the  doctor  call  out,  in  a  loud,  stern  voice : 

*'  Graham,  come  forward." 

Graliam  got.out  of  his  seat,  and  in  a  half-fright- 
ened way,  slunk  up  to  the  doctor's  desk. 

"  I  understand,  Graham,"  said  the  doctor,  with  his 
p:riinmest  expression,  "  that  you  volunteered  to  tell 
Mr.  Snelling  who  it  was  that  threw  that  pellet.  You 
know,  or  ought  to  know,  the  rule  of  this  school  as  to 
informers.  You  will  receive  the  same  punishment 
that  I  have  just  given  Lloyd.     Stand  up<m  the  floor." 

Completely  taken  aback  at  this  unexpected  turn  in 
affairs,  Rod  Graham  mechanically  took  up  his  posi- 
tion, looking  the  very  picture  of  abject  misery.  The 
doctor  kept  him  there  for  full  half  an  hour,  and  then 
administered  twenty  stripes,  with  an  unction  that 


;■  ■; 


176 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


showed,  clearly  enough,  his  profound  contempt  for 
that  most  contemptible  of  beings,  an  informer. 

Now,  Bert  was  not  an  angel,  but  simply  a  boy — a 
very  good  boy,  in  many  respects,  no  doubt,  but  a  boy, 
notwithstanding.  It '  would,  therefore,  be  doing  him 
an  injustice  to  deny  that  he  took  a  certain  delight  in 
seeing  his  tormentor  receive  so  sound  a  whipping,  and 
that  it  brought,  at  least,  a  temporary  balm  to  his  own 
wounded  feelings.  But  the  wound  was  altogether  too 
deep  to  be  cured  by  this,  or  by  Frank  Bowser's  heart- 
felt sympathy,  or  even  by  the  praise  of  his  school- 
mates, many  of  whom  came  up  to  him  at  recess  and 
told  him  he  was  "  a  brick,"  "  a  daisy,"  and  so  forth, 
because  he  had  taken  a  whipping  without  crying. 

All  this  coidd  not  hide  from  him  what  he  felt  to  be 
the  disgrace  of  the  thing.  So  ashamed  was  he  of 
himself  that  he  could  hardly  find  courage  to  tell  them 
about  it  at  home ;  and  although,  easily  appreciating  the 
whole  situation,  Mr.  Lloyd  had  only  words  of  cheer 
for  him,  and  none  of  condemnation,  Bert  still  took  it 
so  much  to  heart  that  the  following  Sunday  he  pleaded 
hard  to  be  allowed  to  remain  away  from  the  Sunday- 
school,  as  he  did  not  want  to  face  Mr.  Silver  and  his 
classmates  so  soon.  But  his  father  wisely  would  not 
suffer  this,  and  so,  much  against  his  will,  he  went  to 
school,  as  usual,  where,  however,  he  felt  very  ill  at 
ease  until  the  session  was  over,  when  he  had  a  long 
talk  with  Mr.  Silver  and  told  him  the  whole  storv. 

This  relieved  his  mind  very  much.     He  felt  as  if 


hi 
th 

Wi 

flc 


pt  for 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


177 


he  were  square  with  the  world  again,  and  he  went 
back  to  Dr.  Johnston's  far  lighter  in  heart  on  Monday 
morning  than  he  had  left  it  on  Friday  afternoon.  He 
had  learned  a  lesson,  too,  that  needed  no  re-teaching 
throughout  the  remainder  of  his  school  days.  That 
was  the  first  and  last  time  Bert  Lloyd  stood  upon  the 
floor  for  punishment. 


;::»'i?1 


1.1 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


VICTOBY  AND  DEFEAT. 

AS  may  be  easily  imagined,  Dr.  Johnston's  severe 
punishment  of  rlod  Graham  for  having  taken 
upon  himself  the  part  of  an  informer  did  not  tend  to 
make  that  young  gentleman  any  more  pleasant  in  his 
bearinor  toward  Bert.  By  some  process  of  reasoning, 
intelligible  only  to  himself,  he  held  Bert  accountable 
for  the  whipping  he  had  received,  and  lost  no  oppor- 
tunity of  wreaking  his  vengeance  upon  him.  Every 
now  and  then  during  that  winter  Bert  bad  bitter 
proof  of  his  enemy's  unrelenting  hate.  It  seemed  as 
though  there  were  no  limit  to  Rod's  ingenuity  in 
devising  ways  of  annoying  him,  and  many  a  hot  tear 
did  he  succeed  in  wringing  from  him. 

As  spring  drew  near,  this  persecution  grew  more 
and  more  intolerable,  and,  without  Bert  himself  being 
fully  conscious  of  it,  a  crisis  was  inevitable.  This 
crisis  came  sooner,  perhaps,  than  either  Bert  or  Rod 
anticipated.  One  bright  spring  morning,  as  Bert, 
with  satchel  strapped  upon  his  back,  approached  the 
school,  feeling  in  high  spirits,  and  looking  the  very 
picture  of  a  sturdy  schoolboy.  Rod,  who  had  been  in 
hiding  behind  a  porch,  sprang  out  upon  him  suddenly, 
snatched  the  cap  off  his  head,  and,  with  a  shout  of, 
178 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


179 


"Fetch  it,  doggy;  go,  fetch  it,"  flung  it  into  the 
raiildle  of  the  street,  that  was  now  little  better  than  a 
river  of  mud.    , 

This  prored  to  be  the  last  straw  upon  the  back  of 
Bert's  endurance,  and  it  broke  it.  With  a  quickness 
tlia  gave  his  tormentor  no  chance  to  dodge  or  defend 
himself,  he  doubled  up  his  fist,  shut  his  eyes  tight, 
and,  rushing  at  him,  struck  out  with  all  his  might. 
Tl»(j  blow  could  hardly  have  been  more  effective  if 
licrt  had  been  an  expert  in  boxing,  for  his  fist  landed 
full  on  Rod's  left  eye,  sending  him  staggering  back- 
ward several  paces,  with  his  hands  clapped  over 
the  injured  optic.  Bui  he  soon  retiovered  himself, 
and,  with  clenched  fists,  was  rushing  upon  Bert,  to 
pummel  him  fiercely,  v;hen  Teter  Johnston,  who  had 
just  come  up,  sprang  in  between,  and,  catching  Rod's 
uplifted  arm,  cried  out,  sternly : 

''Stop,  now!  none  of  that!  This  must  be  a  fair 
figiit,  and  you  sha'n't  begin  until  Lloyd  is  ready .'* 

Then  turning  to  Bert,  while  Rod,  who  had  too 
nuieii  res[>ect  for  Teter's  prowess  not  to  obey  him, 
gave  way  with  a  malignant  scowl,  Teter  said,  encour- 


afjiiiijlv : 


•'You  must  fight  him,  Bert.  It's  the  only  way 
to  settle  him.  You'll  thrash  him  all  right  enough. 
I'll  see  you  through." 

Bert  had  a  good  many  doubts  about  his  thrashing 
"him  all  right  enough,"  but  he  was  still  too  angry  to 
think  calmly,  aud^  moreover,  he  was  not  a  little 


V'  i 


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p 


180 


BERT  LIX)YD  S  BOYHOOD. 


elated  at  the  surprising  success  of  his  first  blow,  which, 
ahhough  struck  at  a  venture,  had  gone  so  straigiit  to 
the  mark,  and  so  he  nodded  liis  head  in  assent. 

"Very  well,  then,  it*s  a  fight,"  said  Teter  to  Rod. 
"In  the  yard  at  the  noon  recess.  You  bring  your 
second,  Graham ;  I'll  look  after  Bert  myself." 

The  words  were  hardlv  uttered  when  the  bell  runjr, 
and  the  boys  had  all  to  hurry  to  their  places  in  tiie 
schoolroom. 

That  morning  was  one  of  the  most  miserable  poor 
Bert  had  ever  spent.  He  was  a  prey  to  the  most 
diverse  feelings,  and  it  was  with  the  utmost  difficulty 
that  he  could  bring  his  mind  to  bear  sufficiently  upon 
his  lessons  to  keq)  his  place  in  the  classes.  In  tlie 
first  place,  he  really  dreaded  the  figlit  with  Rod  Gra- 
ham. Graham  was  older,  taller,  and  ranch  more 
experienced  in  such  affiiirs,  and  Bert  could  see  no 
reason  why  he  should  hope  for  a  victory  over  him. 
It  was  all  well  enough  for  dear  old  Frank  to  say 
from  time  to  time,  as  he  noticed  Bert's  depression: 

"Keep  up  your  spunk,  Bert;  you'll  thrush  him 
sure.     And  if  you  don't,  I  will,  as  sure  as  I'm  alive." 

But  that  did  not  make  the  matter  anv  clearer,  for 
Bert  would  rather  not  get  a  thrashing  at  Rod's  hands, 
even  though  Rod  should  get  one  at  Frank's  hands 
shortlv  after. 

Then,  again,  he  did  not  feel  at  all  certain  that  his 
father  and  mother  woidd  approve  of  his  having  a 
fight  with  one  of  his  schoolmates.      They  disliked 


m» 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


181 


iving  a 
lisliked 


anytliing  of  tlie  kind,  he  knew  well  enough,  and  per- 
haps they  would  not  be  willing  to  make  an  exception 
ill  tiiis  case.  He  wished  very  much  he  could  ask 
ilieir  permission,  but  that,  of  course,  was  out  of  the 
question.  The  mere  mention  of  such  a  thing  would 
assuredly  raise  a  howl  of  derision  from  the  other  boys, 
and  even  Teter  Johnston  would  no  doubt  ask  con- 
temptuously if  "he  was  going  to  back  out  of  it  iu 
that  way." 

No,  no;  lie  must  take  the  chances  of  his  parents* 
approval,  and  likewise — and  here  came  in  the  third 
tlifficulty-^-of  Dr.  Johnston's,  also,  for  he  could  not 
help  wondering  what  the  doctor  would  think  when 
he  heard  of  it,  as  he  was  certain  to  do. 

Thus  perplexed  and  bewildered,  the  morning 
drugged  slowly  along  for  Bert,  who  would  one  moment 
be  wishing  that  recess  time  could  be  postponed  in- 
definitely, and  the  next,  impatient  for  its  arrival. 

At  length  twelve  o'clock  struck,  and  the  boys,  who 
were  by  this  time  all  fully  aware  of  what  was  in  the 
wind,  crowded  out  into  the  yard  and  quickly  formed 
a  i'\u<r  in  the  corner  farthest  awav  from  the  school- 
room.  Into  this  ring  presently  stepped  Rod  Graham, 
looking  very  jaunty  and  defiant,  supported  by  Harry 
Riiwdon,  the  fly  catcher,  the  one  friend  he  had  in  the 
school.  A  moment  later  came  Bert  Lloyd,  pale  but 
determined,  with  Teter  and  Frank  on  either  side  of 
him,  Frank  wearing  an  expression  that  said  as  plainly 
as  possible: 


!I!)M 


182 


BERT  LLOYD  S   BOYHOOD. 


"  Wiilp  my  friend  Bert,  if  you  dare." 

It  is  neiilier  necessary  nor  expedient  to  go  in'o  tlie 
details  of  the  figlit,  wiiicli  did  not  last  very  lojjg. 
Acting  on  Teter's  sage  advice,  Bert  made  no  attempt 
to  defend  himself,  but  rushing  into  close  quarters  ut 
once,  sent  in  swinging  blows  with  right  and  left 
hands  alternately,  striking  Rod  upon  the  face  and 
chest,  while  the  latter's  blows  fell  principally  upon 
his  forehead;  until  finally,  in  the  fourth  round,  Gra- 
ham, whose  face  had  suffered  severely,  gave  up  tlje 
contest,  and  covering  his  head  with  his  iiands,  raa 
away  from  Bert,  who  was  too  tired  to  pursue  hira. 

Great  was  the  cheering  at  this  conclusive  result; 
and  Bert,  panting,  perspiring,  and  exhausted,  found 
himself  the  centre  of  a  noisy  throng  of  his  school- 
mates, who  wrung  his  hand,  clapped  him  upon  the 
back,  called  him  all  sorts  of  names  that  were  com- 
plimentary, and,  in  fact,  gave  him  a  regular  ovation. 
After  he  had  gone  to  the  tap  and  bathed  his  hot  f;.ce, 
Bert  was  very  much  pleased  to  find  that  the  brunt  of 
the  battle  had  fallen  upon  his  forehead,  and  that, 
consequently,  he  would  hardly  be  marked  at  all.  To 
be  sure,  when  he  tried  to  put  his  cap  on,  he  discovered 
that  it  would  be  necessary  to  wear  it  v^ery  much  on 
the  back  of  his  head,  but  he  felt  like  doing  that,  any- 
way, so  it  didn't  matter. 

He  would  have  liked  to  shake  hands  with  Rod,  and 
make  it  all  up,  but  Rod  was  not  to  be  found.  After 
fleeing  from  his  opponent,  he  had  snatched  up  his 


^^^ 


irTN», 


B£BT  LLOYD'S   BOYHOOD. 


183 


iii^o  the 
attempt 

M'ttVr,  at 

iiui  left 
lice  and 
ly  upon 
1(1,  Gra- 
up  the 
luls,  rail 
liim. 
\  result; 
J,  loiirnl 
5  school- 
ipoii  the 
»re  coin- 
ovation, 
hot  fi.ee, 
jrunt  of 
nd  that, 
all.  To 
scovered 
iiuch  on 
lat,  any- 

lod, and 
After 
1  up  Ills 


coat,  and,  deserted  even  by  Kawdon,  who  was  disgusted 
at  ills  running  away,  he  iiad  gone  out  into  the  street, 
and  did  not  appear  again  for  the  rest  of  the  day. 

His  victory  worked  a  great  change  in  Bert's  feelings. 
He  was  no  longer  troubled  about  wliat  his  parents 
would  think  of  the  fight.  He  felt  sure  they  would 
applaud  him,  now  that  he  had  come  out  of  it  with 
banners  flying,  so  to  speak.  And  he  was  not  far  from 
right,  eitlier.  Mrs.  Lloyd,  it  is  true,  was  a  good 
deal  shocked  at  first,  and  Mr.  Lloyd  questioned  him 
very  closely ;  but  when  they  heard  the  whole  story, 
much  of  which,  indeed,  was  already  familiar  to  them, 
they  both  agreed  that  under  the  circumstances  Bert 
conld  not  have  acted  otherwise,  without  placing  him- 
self in  a  false  position. 

"At  the  same  time,  Bert  dear,"  said  his  father, 
laying  his  hand  upon  his  shoulder,  "as  it  is  your  first, 
so  I  hope  it  will  be  your  last  fight.  You  have  estab- 
tablished  your  reputation  for  courage  now.  You  can 
sustain  it  in  other  ways  than  by  your  fists." 

Dr.  Johnston's  method  of  showing  that  he  was 
fully  cognizant  of  the  event  was  highly  characteristic. 
The  next  morning  when  Bert,  with  swollen  forehead, 
and  Rod,  with  blackened  eyes,  came  before  him  in 
the  same  class,  he  said,  with  one  of  his  sardonic 
smiles: 

"Ah,  Graham,  I  see  Lloyd  has  been  writing  his 
autograph  on  you.  Well,  let  that  be  an  end  of  it. 
Shake  hands  with  one  another." 


m 


'  ^■>if 


m 


)!• 


'■I 


184 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


tu  III 


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i 


Bert  immediately  put  out  liia  Ijiind  and  graspeil 
Bod's,  wiiich  was  but  half  extended. 

"  Very  good,'*  said  tlie  doctor.  "  We  will  now  pro- 
ceed with  the  lesson." 

One  of  the  most  interested  and  excited  spectators  oi 
the  fight  had  been  Dick  Wilding,  a  boy  who  will  re- 
quire a  few  words  of  description.  He  was  the  son  of 
one  of  the  merchant  princes  of  the  city,  and  was  ac;- 
customed  to  everything  that  the  highest  social  station 
and  abundant  wealth  could  procure.  He  was  a  hand- 
some young  fellow,  and,  although  thoroughly  spoiled 
and  seliish,  was  not  without  his  good  points,  a  lavish 
generosity  being  the  most  noteworthy.  This,  of 
course,  supplemented  by  his  reckless  daring  as  regards 
all  schoolboy  feats,  and  natural  altitude  for  schoolboy 
sports,  made  him  very  popular  at  the  school,  and  he 
had  a  large  following.  Previous  to  Bert's  decisive 
victory  over  Rod  Graham,  he  had  not  shown  anv 
particular  interest  in  him,  beyond  committing  himself 
to  the  opinion  that  he  was  a  "regular  brick"  on  the 
occasion  of  the  hoisting,  and  again,  when  Bert  bore 
l)is  whipping  so  manfully.  But  since  the  fight,  he 
had  exhibited  a  strong  desire  to  have  Bert  join  tlie 
circle  of  his  companions,  and  to  this  end  cultivated 
ills  society  in  a  very  marked  w?Ly. 

Now  this  same  Dick  Wilding  had  been  in  Mrs. 
Lloyd's  mind,  when  she  had  hesitated  about  Bert's 
going  to  Dr.  Johnston's.  She  knew  well  what  his 
bringing  up  liad  been,  and  had  heard  several  stones 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


185 


about  him,  which  made  her  dread  his  l)eing  a  com- 
piuiiun  fur  Bert.  Shu  hud  uccordiugly  spoken  to  Bert 
about  Dick,  and  while  taking  care  not  to  be  too 
pointed,  liad  made  it  clear  that  slie  did  not  want  them 
to  be  intimate.  Tiiis  was  when  Bert  first  went  to  tlie 
scliool,  and  as  there  iiad  seemed  no  prospect  of  any- 
tiiing  more  tiian  a  mere  acquaintance  springing  up 
between  the  two  boys,  notinng  liad  been  :\\d  on  the 
siil)ject  for  some  time,  so  that  it  was  not  fr  ^sh  in  his 
mind  when  Dick,  somewhat  to  his  SPi;)rise,  sliow.  1 
sucli  a  desire  for  his  society. 

Diuiv  j  latest  enterprise  "/as  the  organiztnlon  of  a 
.ricket  club,  into  which  he  was  putting  a  great  deal  of 
eiiertrv.  As  the  bats  and  balls  and  other  necessarv 
articles  were  to  be  paid  for  out  of  his  own  pocket,  he 
found  no  difficulty  in  getting  recruits,  and  the  list  of 
members  was  fast  filling  up.  Lert  had  heard  a  good 
deal  about  this  club,  and  would  have  liked  very  much 
to  belong  to  it,  but  as  nobody  belonged  except  those 
who  had  been  invited  by  Dick,  his  prospects  did  not 
seem  very  bright.  Great,  then,  was  his  delight  when 
one  day  at  recess,  Dick  came  up  to  him  and  said  in 
his  most  winning  wav  : 

*'  Say,  Bert,  don't  you  want  to  join  my  cricket 
club?     I'd  like  to  have  vou  in.'* 

Bert  did  not  take  long  to  answer. 

"And  I'd  like  to  join  ever  so  much,"  he  replied, 
iu  great  glee. 

"All  right,  then  ;  consider  yourself  a  member,  and 


f  ■.!'  (is 


If 


i 


186 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


come  round  to  the  field  behind  our  hoise  this  after- 
uoon.     We  practice  there  every  day/' 

Bert  was  fairly  dancing  with  joy.  Yet  he  did  not 
forget  his  friend  Frank.  If  Frank  were  not  a  mem- 
ber of  the  club,  too,  half  the  pleasure  of  it  would  be 
gone.     So  before  Dick  went  ofF,  he  ventured  to  say : 

"  Frank  Bowser  would  like  to  belong,  too,  I  know. 
Won't  vou  ask  him?" 

"  Certainly.  No  objection  at  all,"  replied  Dick,  in 
an  off-hand  way.  "  Bring  him  along  with  you  this 
afternoon." 

With  beaming  face,  Bert  rushed  over  to  where  Frank 
was  busy  playiug  Fuarbles,  and,  drawing  him  aside, 
shouted  rathe;;  than  wliispered  in  his  ear: 

"  I've  got  something  splendid  to  tell  you.  Dick 
Wilding  has  asked  us  both  to  join  his  cricket  clul>, 
and  we're  to  go  to  his  field  this  very  afternoon." 

"You  don't  say  sol"  exclaimed  Frank,  his  face 
now  beaming  as  brightly  as  Bert's.  "  Isn't  that  just 
splendid  !  I  wanted  to  belong  to  that  club  ever  so 
much,  but  was  afraid  Dick  wouldn't  ask  me." 

They  had  a  capital  game  of  cricket  tliat  afternoon 
in  the  Wilding  field,  which  made  a  very  good  ground 
indeed,  and  not  only  that  afternoon,  but  for  many 
afternoons  as  spring  passed  into  summer  and  tlie  days 
grew  longer  and  warmer.  Bert  told  them  at  home 
about  the  club,  but  somehow  omitted  to  mention  the 
prominent  part  Dick  Wilding  played  in  it.  In  fiict, 
he  never  mentioned  his  name  at  all,  nor  that  it  was  his 


BEBT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


187 


father's  field  in  whicK  the  club  met.  This  was  the 
first  step  ill  a  path  of  wrong,  tiie  taking  of  which  was 
soon  to  lead  to  serious  consequences. 

His  reason  for  suppressing  Dick  Wilding's  name 
was  plain  enough.  He  knew  that  in  all  probability 
it  would  put  an  end  to  his  connection  with  the  club. 
Now  this  club  had  every  attraction  for  a  boy  like 
Bert  tirat  such  an  organization  could  possibly  possess. 
It  was  select  and  exclusive,  for  none  could  belong 
except  those  who  were  invited  by  Dick.  The  field 
was  a  lovely  place  to  play  in,  and  they  had  it  all  to 
themselves.  The  balls  and  bats  and  stumps  were 
first  class,  a  fine  set  of  cricket  gear  having  been  one 
of  Dick's  Christinas  presents ;  and,  finally,  Dick  was 
always  bringing  out  to  the  players  iced  lemonade,  or 
ginger  beer,  or  spruce  beer,  or  something  of  the  kind, 
which  was  wonderfully  welcome  to  them  when  hot 
and  tired  and  thirstv. 

With  such  strong  arguments  as  these,  Bert  did  not 
find  it  difficult  to  quiet  his  conscience  when  it  troubled 
him,  as  it  did  now  and  then,  and  he  continued  to  be 
a  great  deal  in  Dick  Wilding's  society  until  something 
happened  which  caused  bin:  to  bitterly  regret  that  he 
had  not  heeded  the  inward  monitor,  and  kept  away 
from  the  associations  his  wise  mother  wished  him  to 
avoid. 

Mrs.  Lioyd  had  good  reason  for  dreading  Dick 
Wilding's  companionship  for  her  boy,  as  Dick  could 
hardly  fail  to  do  Bert  harm,  while  the  chances  of 


: 


ir 


I  III 


I 


188 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


Bert  doing  him  any  good  were  very  small,  since  he 
was  quite  a  year  older  and  well  set  in  his  own  ways. 
Dick's  parents  were  thorough  people  of  the  world. 
Their  religion  consisted  in  occupying  a  velvet-cusli- 
ioued  pew  in  a  fashionable  church  on  Sunday  morn- 
ing, and  doing  as  tiiey  pleased  the  rest  of  the  day. 
They  made  no  attempt  to  teach  their  son  anything 
more  than  good  manners,  taking  it  quite  for  granted 
that  tiie  other  virtues  would  spring  up  of  themselves. 
Dick  was  not  much  to  be  blamed,  therefore,  if  he  had 
rather  hazy  views  about  right  and  wrong.  He  had 
not  really  an  evil  nature,  but  he  had  a  very  easy 
conscience,  and  the  motto  by  which  he  shaped  his 
conduct  might  well  have  been  :  "  Get  your  own  way. 
Get  it  honestly,  if  you  can.     But — get  it." 

Now,  this  cricket  club  had  taken  a  great  hold  upon 
his  fancy,  and  his  whole  heart  was  wrapped  up  in  it. 
He  was  captain,  of  course,  and  all  the  other  boys 
obeved  him  implicitlv.  Their  docilitv  ministered  to 
his  pride,  and  he  showed  his  appreciation  by  fairly 
showering  his  bounty  upon  them.  There  positively 
seemed  no  end  to  his  pocket  money.  All  sorts  of 
expenses  were  indulged  in.  A  fine  tent  was  set  up 
for  the  boys  to  put  their  hats  and  coats  in  and  sit 
under  when  not  playing,  the  ginger-beer  man  had 
orders  to  call  round  everv  afternoon  and  leave  a  dozen 
bottles  of  his  refreshing  beverage,  and  more  than  once 
the  club,  instead  of  playing,  adjourned,  at  Dick's 
invitation j  to  an  ice-cream  saloon,  and  had  a  regular 


II  III: 


BERT  LLOYD*S   BOYHOOD. 


189 


W\?. 


feast  of  ice  cream.  Wlien  some  indiscreet  com- 
ptiDion  would  ex})ress  liis  astonishment  at  the  length 
of  Dick's  purse,  the  latter  would  answer,  carelessly : 

"  Plenty  of  funds.  Father,  and  mother,  and  uncle 
all  give  me  money.  There's  lots  more  where  this 
came  from,"  jingling  a  handful  of  silver  as  he  spoke. 
So,  indeed,  there  was;  but  had  it  any  business  to  be 
in  Master  Dick's  pocket? 

Til  is  delightful  state  of  affaii's  went  on  for  some 
weeks,  no  one  enjoying  it  more  than  Bert,  and  then 
came  a  revelation  that  broke  upon  the  boys  like  a 
tliunder-clap  out  of  a  clear  sky. 

One  evening,  Mr.  Wilding  came  over  to  see  Mr. 
Lloyd,  looking  very  grave  and  troubled.  They  had 
a  lonir  talk  together  in  Mr.  Llovd's  studv,  and  when 
he  went  away  Mr.  Lloyd  looked  as  grave  and  troubled 
as  his  visitor.  After  showing  Mr.  Wilding  out,  he 
called  his  wife  into  the  library,  and  communicated  to 
her  what  he  had  just  heard,  and  it  must  have  been 
sorrowful  news,  for  Mrs.  Lloyd's  face  bore  unmistak- 
able signs  of  tears,  when  presently  sha  went  out  for 
Bert,  who  was  hard  at  work  upon  I: is  lessons  in  the 
tlining  room. 

Tiie  moment  Bert  entered  the  room  he  saw  thaf; 
something  was  the  matter.  The  faces  of  his  father 
and  mother  were  very  sorrowful,  and  an  indefinabl-i 
feeling  of  apprehension  took  hold  of  him.  He  v»ds 
not  long  left  in  uncertainty  as  to  the  cause  of  the 
trouble. 


?m 


190 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


**  Bert,"  said  his  fatlier,  gravely,  "  have  you  seen 
much  of  Dick  Wilding  lately  ?  " 

Bert  blushed,  and  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then 
answered : 

"  Yes,  father ;  a  good  deal.  He's  the  captain  of 
our  cricket  club,  you  know." 

*'  I  did  not  know  until  now  that  vou  have  told  rae, 
Bert,"  said  Mr.  Lloyd,  looking  meaningly  at  him. 
"  You  never  told  me  before,  did  vou  ?  " 

The  color  deepened  on  Bert's  face. 

"  No,  father ;  I  don't  think  I  did,"  he  murmured. 

"Had  you  any  reason  for  saving  nothing  about 
him,  Bert?  Were  vou  afraid  we  would  not  let  vou 
belong  to  the  club  if  we  knew  that  Dick  Wilding 
was  its  captain?"  asked  Mr.  Lloyd. 

Bert  made  no  reply,  but  his  head  drooped  low  upon 
his  breast,  and  his  hands  playing  nervously  with  the 
buttons  of  his  coat  told  the  whole  story  more  plainly 
than  words  could  have  done.  Mr.  Llovd  siixlud 
deeply  and  looked  at  his  wife  as  though  to  say : 
"  There's  no  doubt  about  it ;  our  boy  has  been  de- 
ceivino:  us,"  while  Mrs.  Llovd's  eves  once  more  fillwl 
with  tears  which  she  turned  awav  to  hide. 

After  a  pause,  during  which  Bert  seemed  to  hem* 
the  beating  of  his  own  heart  as  distinctly  as  the  tick- 
ing of  the  big  clock  upon  the  mantel,  Mr.  Lloyd 
said,  in  tones  that  showed  deep  feeling : 

"  We  would  have  been  sorry  enough  to  find  out 
that  our  boy  had  been  deceiving  us,  but  what  sliall 


;<>ispiiiui;i4 


BERT  LLOYDS   BOYHOOD. 


191 


we  say  at  finding  out  that  he  has  been  a  sharer  in 
pleasures  purchased  with  stolen  money  ?  " 

Bert  looked  up  in  surprise.  Stolen  money  !  What 
could  his  father  mean  ?  Mr.  Lloyd  understood  the 
movement,  and  anticipated  the  unasked  question. 

"  Yes,  Bert  j  stolen  money.  The  beer,  the  candy, 
and  the  ice  cream,  which  Dick  Wilding  lavished 
upon  you  so  freely,  were  paid  for  with  money  stolen 
from  his  mother's  money  drawer.  He  found  a  key 
\vhich  fitted  the  lock,  and  has  taken  out,  no  one 
knows  just  how  much  money;  and  you  have  been 
sharing  in  what  that  stolen  money  purchased." 

Bert  was  fairly  stunned.  Dick  Wilding  a  thief  I 
And  he  a  sharer  in  the  proceeds  of  his  guilt  I  He  felt 
as  though  he  must  run  and  hide  himself.  That  Dick 
should  do  wrong  was  not  entirely  a  surprise  to  him, 
but  that  his  sin  in  being  a  companion  of  Dick's  on 
the  sly  should  be  found  out  in  this  way,  this  it  was 
which  cut  him  to  the  heart.  Without  a  word  of  ex- 
cuse to  offer,  he  sat  there,  self-condemned  and  speech- 
less. The  silence  of  the  room  was  appalling.  He 
could  not  bear  it  any  longer.  Springing  from  his 
chair,  he  rushed  across  the  room,  threw  himself  on 
his  knees  before  his  mother,  and  putting  his  head  in 
her  lap,  burst  into  a  paroxysm  of  tears,  sobbing  as 
though  his  heart  would  break. 

"Poor  Bert,  poor  Bert!"  murmured  his  mother, 
tenderly,  passing  her  hand  softly  over  the  curly  head 
in  her  lap. 


mr 


il ' 


192 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


;i  :i  !, 


lli    iillil 


'''      li 


m 


! 


Mr.  liloyd  was  deeply  moved,  and  put  liis  hand  up 
to  his  eyes  to  conceal  tlie  tears  fast  welling  from  them. 
For  some  minutes  the  quiet  of  the  room  was  broken 
only  by  Bert's  sobs,  and  the  steady  ticking  of  the 
clock  upon  the  mantlepiece. 

Mr.  Lloyd  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"  You  had  better  get  up  and  go  to  your  room, 
Bert.  We  both  know  how  sorry  you  are,  and  we 
forgive  you  for  having  so  disobeyed  us.  But  we  are 
not  the  only  ones  of  whom  you  must  ask  forgiveness. 
Go  to  your  knees,  Bert,  and  ask  God  to  forgive  you." 

Bert  rose  slowly  to  his  feet,  and  not  vent  ^ring  to 
look  either  his  father  or  mother  in  the  face,  was  going 
out  of  the  door,  when  his  father  called  him  back. 

"Just  one  word  more,  Bert.  It  is  not  long  since 
you  v.'on  a  brave  figlit,  and  now  you  have  been  sadly 
defeated  bv  a  far  worse  enemv  than  Rod  Graham. 
You  can,  in  your  own  strength,  overcome  human  foes, 
but  only  by  divine  strength  can  you  overcome  the 
tempter  that  has  led  you  astray  this  time.  Pray  for 
this  strength,  Bert,  for  it  is  the  kind  the  Bible  means 
when  it  says,  *  Quit  you  like  men,  be  strong.' " 

And  with  a  look  of  deep  affection,  Mr.  Lloyd  let 
Bert  go  from  him. 


It 


ill 


■'T^vi^^-iTfa 


':^l 


md  up 
I  them, 
broken 
of  the 


room, 
md  we 
we  are 
veness. 
e  vou." 
ring  to 
LS  going 
ick. 

icr  since 
n  sadlv 

rahani. 
an  foes, 

me  the 

ray  for 
means 


ov 


d  let 


CHAPTER  XX. 

V 

A  NARROW  ESCAPE. 

SO  keenly  did  Bert  feel  his  disgrace,  that  it  was 
some  time  before  he  regained  his  wonted  spirits ; 
and  his  continued  depression  gave  his  mother  no  little 
concern,  so  that  she  took  every  way  of  showing  to 
him  that  her  confidence  in  him  was  unimpaired,  and 
that  she  asked  no  further  proof  of  his  penitence  than 
he  had  already  given.  But  Bert's  sensitive  nature 
ha  i  received  a  shock  from  which  it  did  not  readily 
recover.  From  his  earliest  days  he  had  been  pecu- 
liarly free  from  the  desire  to  take  what  did  not 
belong  to  him;  and  as  he  grew  older,  this  had 
developed  into  a  positive  avei-sion  to  anything  that 
savored  of  stealing  in  the  slightest  degree.  He 
never  could  see  any  fun  in  "hooking"  another 
lx)y's  lunch,  as  so  many  others  did,  and  nothing 
could  irfduce  him  to  join  in  one  of  the  numerous 
expeditions  organized  to  raid  sundry  unguarded 
orchards  in  the  outskirts  of  the  city. 

His  firmness  upon  this  point  led  to  a  curious 
scene  one  afternoon.  School  was  just  out,  and  a 
group  of  the  boys,  among  whom  were  Bert  and, 
of  course,  Frank  Bowser,  was  discussing  what  they 
sliouid  do   with   themselves,   when   Ned   Ross  pro-" 


1  : 


'  V   i'-,? 


■  s.:;  *y^iKs 


N 


193 


194 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


m 


m 


m 
iili 


posed  that  they  should  go  out  to  the  Hostcrman 
orchard,  and  see  if  they  could  not  get  some  apples. 
A  chorus  of  approval  came  from  all  but  Bert,  who 
immediately  turned  away  and  made  as  though  he 
would  go  home. 

"Hallo!  Bert,"  cried  Ned  Ross,  "aren't  you 
coming  ?  " 

"No,"  replied  Bert,  very  decidedly.     "I'm  not." 

"  Why  not?  "  inquired  Ned.     "  What's  the  matter?  " 

"Those  are  not  our  apples,  Ned,  and  we've  got 
no  right  to  touch  'em,"  answered  Bert. 

"Bosh  and  nonsense!"  exclaimed  Ned.  "All  the 
boys  take  them,  and  nobody  ever  hinders  them. 
Come  along." 

"No,"  said  Bert,  "I  can't." 

"Can't?  Why  can't  you?"  persisted  Ned,  who 
was  rapidly  losing  his  temper. 

Bert  hesitated  a  moment,  and  the  color  mounted 
high  in  his  cheeks.  Then  he  spoke  out  his  reason 
bravely : 

"Because  I'm  a  Christian,  Ned;  and  it  would 
not  be  right  for  me  to  do  it." 

"A  Christian?"  sneered  Ned.  "You'd  be  nearer 
the  truth  if  you  said  a  coward." 

The  words  had  hardly  left  his  lips  before  Frank 
Bowser  was  standing  before  him,  shaking  in  his  face 
a  fist  that  was  not  to  be  regarded  lightly. 

"Say  that  again,"  cried  Frank,  wrathfully,  "and 
I'll  knock  you  down !" 


■«'^3W,5rJ 


«^>||| 


BERT  LLOYD'S  BOYHOOD. 


196 


Ned  looked  at  Frank's  face,  and  then  at  his  fist. 
Tliere  was  no  mistaking  the  purpose  of  either,  and 
us  Frank  was  fully  his  match,  if  not  more,  he 
tlioiight  it  prudent  to  say  nothing  more  than: 
"  Bah !  Come  on,  fellows.  We  can  get  along 
witliout  him." 

Tlie  group  moved  ofif;  but  Bert  was  not  the 
only  one  who  stayed  behind.  Frank  stayed,  too; 
and  so  did  Ernest  Linton.  And  these  three  sought 
their  amusement  in  another  direction. 

That  scene  very  vividly  impressed  Bert,  and  over 
and  over  again  he  thought  to  liimself;  "What  will 
the  boys  who  heard  me  refuse  to  go  to  the  orchard, 
because  I  am  a  Christian,  think  of  me  when  they 
hear  tliat  I  have  been  helping  to  spend  stolen 
monev  ?  " 

Tills  was  the  thought  that  troubled  him  most,  but 
it  was  not  the  onlv  one.  He  felt  that  he  could  not  be 
at  ease  witii  his  beloved  Sunday-school  teacher  again, 
until  he  had  made  a  full  confession  to  iiim.  But,  oh ! 
this  did  seem  so  hard  to  do !  Several  Sundays  passed 
without  his  being  able  to  make  up  liis  mind  to  do  it. 
At  length  he  determined  to  put  it  off  no  longer,  and 
one  Sunday  afternoon,  lingering  behind  after  tlie  school 
hnd  been  dismissed,  he  poured  the  whole  story  into 
Mr.  Silver's  sympathetic  ear. 

Mr.  Silver  was  evidentlv  moved  to  the  heart,  as 
Bert,  without  sparing  himself,  told  of  his  disobedience, 
his  concealment,  and  the  consequences  that  followed ; 


•I'll 


■'Wj 


i:{': 


h'. 


III! 


196 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


and  he  had  many  a  wise  and  tender  word  for  the  boy, 
whose  confidence  in  liini  made  him  proud.  From 
that  day  a  peculiar  fondness  existed  between  the  two, 
and  Mr.  Silver  was  inspired  to  increased  fidelity  and 
effort  in  his  work  because  of  the  knowledge  that  one 
at  least  of  his  boys  looked  upon  him  with  such  affec- 
tion and  confidence. 

Once  that  summer  had  fairly  come  to  stay,  tlie 
wharves  of  the  city  became  full  of  fascination  for 
the  boys,  and  every  afternoon  they  trooped  thither  to 
fish  for  perch  and  tommy  cods ;  to  board  the  vessels 
lying  in  their  berths,  and  out-do  one  another  in  feats 
of  rigging  climbing;  to  play  glorious  games  of  "hide 
and  seek,"  and  "  I  spy,"  in  the  great  cavernous  ware- 
houses, and  when  tired  to  gather  around  some  idle 
sailor,  and  have  him  stir  their  imagination  with  mar- 
velous stories  of  the  sea. 

For  none  had  the  wharves  more  attraction  than  for 
Bert  and  Frank,  and  although  Mrs.  Lloyd  would  not 
allow  the  former  to  go  down  Water  Street,  where  he 
would  be  far  from  home,  she  did  not  object  to  his 
spending  an  afternoon  now  and  then  on  a  wharf  not 
far  from  their  own  house.  So  thither  the  two  friends 
repaired  at  every  opportunity,  and  fine  fun  they  had, 
dropping  their  well-baited  hooks  into  the  clear  green 
water,  to  catch  eager  perch,  or  watching  the  hard  work- 
ing sailors  dragging  huge  casks  of  molasses  out  of 
dark  and  grimy  holds,  and  rolling  them  up  the  wharf 
to  be  stored  in  the  vast  cool  warehouses,  or  running 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


197 


the  bov. 
From 
the  two, 
ilitj  aud 
that  one 
L'h  affec- 

itay,  the 
tiou  for 
liither  to 
e  vessels 
•  in  feats 
of  "hide 
us  ware- 
)me  idle 
ith  mar- 

tiian  for 
ould  not 
r'here  he 
;t  to  his 
larf  not 
friends 
hey  had, 
ar  green 
rd  work- 
E  out  of 
he  wharf 
running 


risks  of  being  pickled  themselves,  as  they  followed 
the  fish-curers  in  their  work  of  preparing  the  salt 
herring  or  mackerel  for  tlieir  journey  to  the  hot  West 
Indies.  There  never  was  any  lack  of  employment, 
for  eyes,  or  hands,  or  feet,  xiv  that  busy  wiiarf,  and 
the  boys  felt  very  proud  wlicn  they  were  permitted  to 
join  the  workers  sometimes  and  do  their  little  best, 
which  was  all  the  more  enjoyable  because  they  could 
stop  whenever  they  liked,  and  hadn't  to  work  all  day 
as  the  others  did. 

Nor  were  tliese  the  only  attractions.  The  principal 
business  done  at  this  wharf  was  with  the  West  Indies, 
and  no  vessel  thought  of  coming  back  from  that  re- 
gion of  fruits  without  a  goodly  store  of  oranges,  ba- 
nanas, and  pineapples,  some  of  which,  if  the  boys 
were  not  too  troublesome,  and  the  captain  had  made 
a  good  voyage,  were  sure  to  find  their  way  into  very 
appreciative  mouths.  Bert's  frank,  brighi  manner, 
and  plucky  spirit  made  him  a  great  favorite  with  the 
captains,  and  many  a  time  was  he  sent  home  with  a 
big  juicy  pine,  or  an  armful  of  great  golden  oranges. 

One  day,  when  Bert  and  Frank  went  down  to  the 
wharf,  they  found  a  strange-looking  vessel  made  fast 
to  the  piles  that  filled  them  with  curiosity.  She  was  a 
barquentiue,  and  was  sparred,  and  rigged,  and  painted 
in  a  rather  unusual  way,  the  explanation  of  it  all  being 
that  she  was  a  Spanish  v^essel,  of  an  old-fashioned 
type.  Quite  in  keeping  with  the  appearance  of  the 
vessel  was  the  appearance  of  the  crew.    They  were 


I™SI1 


li 


rap. 


tt' 


??T-' 


198 


BERT  LLOYD^S  BOYHOOD. 


nearly  all  Lascars,  and  with  their  tawny  skins,  fljish- 
ing  eyes,  jet  black  hair,  and  gold-ringeil  ears,  seeined 
to  fit  very  well  the  description  of  tiie  pirates,  wlioie 
dreadful  deeds,  as  graphically  described  in  sundry 
books,  had  given  the  boys  many  a  delicious  thrill  of 
horror.  This  resemblance  caused  them  to  look  upon 
the  foreigners  with  some  little  fear  at  first,  but  tlicir 
curiosity  soon  overcame  all  considerations  of  prudence, 
and  after  hanging  about  for  a  while,  they  bashfully 
accepted  the  invitation  extended  tiiem  by  a  swarthy 
sailor,  whose  words  were  unintelligible,  but  whose 
meaning  was  unmistakable. 

On  board  the  "Sunta  Maria" — for  that  was  the 
vessel's  name — thev  found  much  to  interest  them,  and 
the  sailors  treated  them  very  kindly,  in  spite  of  their 
piratical  appearance.  What  delighted  them  mo.st  was 
a  monkey  that  belonged  to  the  cook.  He  was  one  of 
the  cutest,  cleverest  little  creatures  that  ever  parodied 
humanity.  His  owner  had  taught  him  a  good  many 
tricks,  and  he  had  taught  himself  even  more;  and 
both  the  bovs  felt  that  in  all  their  lives  thev  had 
never  seen  so  entertaining  a  pet.  He  completely 
captivated  them,  and  they  would  have  given  all  they 
possessed  to  make  him  their  own.  But  the  cook  had 
no  idea  of  parting  with  him,  even  had  it  been  in  their 
power  to  buy  him ;  so  they  had  to  content  themselves 
with  going  down  to  see  him  as  often  as  they  could. 

Of  course,  they  told  their  schoolmates  about  him, 
and  of  course  the  schoolmates  were  set  wild  with 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


199 


curiosity  to  see  this  marvelous  monkey,  and  tliey 
liockeil  down  to  the  "Santa  Maria"  in  such  numbers, 
uiui  HO  often,  tliat  at  last  tiic  saih)rs  ^ot  tired  of  them. 
A  mob  of  schooll)oys  invading  tlie  deck  every  after- 
11001),  and  paying  uproarious  liomage  to  the  cleverness 
of  :i  nionkev,  was  more  or  less  of  a  nuisance.  Accord- 
iiiL^ly,  by  way  of  a  gentle  hint,  the  rope  ladder,  by 
wliioli  easy  access  was  had  to  the  vessel,  was  removed, 
and  .'I  'ingle  rope  put  in  its  place. 

It  i.  ^)pened  that  the  first  afternoon  after  this  had 
Ix-'cn  done,  the  crowd  of  visitors  was  larger  than 
ever;  and  when  they  arrived  at  the  "Santa  Maria's" 
side,  and  found  the  ladder  gone,  they  were,  as  may  be 
easily  imagined,  very  much  disgusted.  A  rope  might 
be  irood  enough  for  a  sailor,  but  the  boys  very  much 
preferred  a  ladder,  and  the.y  felt  disposed  to  resent 
the  action  of  tiie  sailors  in  thus  cutting  off  their  means 
of  ascent.  The  fact  that  it  was  high  tide  at  the  time, 
and  the  tall  sides  of  the  ship  towered  above  the  wharf, 
constituted  a  further  grievance  in  the  boys'  minds. 
Tiiey  held  an  impromptu  indignation  meeting  forth- 
with. But,  although  they  were  unanimous  in  con- 
demning the  conduct  of  the  foreigners,  who  evidently 
did  not  know  any  better,  they  were  still  no  nearer  the 
monkev. 

"Why  not  try  to  shin  up  the  rope?"  asked  Frank 
Bowser,  after  a  while. 

"  All  right,  if  you'll  give  us  a  lead,"  replied  one  of 
the  others. 


iiilillii 


200 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


\n\M\ 


I 


i  i 
III 


Iffliii 


liiiii 


liiiiiii 


"Very  well — here  goes!"  returned  Frank.  And 
without  more  ado  he  grasped  the  rope,  planted  liis 
feet  firmly  against  the  vessel's  side,  and  began  to 
ascend.  It  was  evidently  not  the  easiest  thing  in  tlie 
world  to  do,  but  his  pluck,  determination,  and  muscle 
conquered  ;  and  presently,  somewhat  out  of  breath,  he 
sat  upon  the  bulwark,  and,  waving  his  cap  to  the  boys 
below,  gasped  out : 

"  Come  along,  boys !     It's  as  easy  as  winking." 

Not  to  be  outdone,  several  others  made  the  attempt 
and  succeeded  also.  Then  came  Bert's  turn.  Althous;li 
so  many  had  gotten  up  all  right,  he  somehow  felt  a 
little  nervous,  and  made  one  or  two  false  starts, 
cliinbing  up  a  little  ways  and  then  dropping  back 
p.gain.  This  caused  those  wl  >  were  waiting  to  be- 
come impatient,  and  while  Bert  was  about  making 
another  start,  one  of  them  who  stood  behind  him  gave 
him  a  sharp  push,  saying  :    ' 

"Hurry  up  there,  slow  coach." 

As  it  happened,  Bert  was  just  at  that  moment 
changing  his  grip  upon  the  rope,  and  balancing 
himself  upon  the  extreme  elge  of  the  stringer, 
which  formed  the  edge  of  the  wharf.  The  ill- 
timed  push  caught  him  unawares.  He  threw  out 
his  arms  to  steady  himself,  and  the  rope  slipped 
altogether  from  his  grasp.  The  next  instant,  M'ith 
a  cry  of  fear  that  was  taken  up  by  the  boys  stand- 
ing helplessly  about,  he  fell  over  into  the  dark,  swirl- 
ing water,  between  the  vessel's  side  and  the  wharf. 


BERT  LLOYD  S   BOYHOOD. 


201 


nk.  And 
lanted  liis 
began  to 
ing  iu  tlie 
lid  muscle 
breath,  lie 
y  the  bovs 


ving.'* 

le  attempt 
Altliontjh 
ow  felt  a 
Ise  starts, 
jiiig  back 
Qg  to  be- 
t  making 
him  o-ave 

O 


moment 
balancing 

stringer, 
The  ill- 
fa  re  w  out 
slipped 
ant,  with 
ys  stand- 
rk,  swirl- 
v^harf. 


Down,  down,  down,  he  went,  while  the  water  roared 
in  his  ears  with  the  thunders  of  Niagara,  and  filled 
his  mouth  with  its  sickening  brine,  as  instinctively  he 
opened  it  to  cry  for  help.  He  could  not  swim  a 
stroke,  but  he  had  a  good  idea  of  what  the  motions 
Avere,  and  so  now,  in  a  desperate  effort  to  save  his 
life,  he  struck  out  vigorously  with  his  hands.  It 
must  have  helped  him,  too;  for  out  of  the  dark- 
ness into  which  he  had  been  plunged  at  first,  he 
emerged  into  a  lighter  place,  where,  through  the 
green  water,  he  could  see  his  hands  looking  very 
M'hite,  as  they  moved  before  his  face. 

But  this  did  not  bring  him  to  the  surface;  so 
m  he  tried  another  plan.  Doubling  his  sturdy  legs 
beneath  him,  he  shot  them  out  as  he  had  seen 
other  boys  do  when  "treading  water."  A  thrill 
of  joy  inspired  him  as  the  effort  succeeded,  and, 
his  head  rising  above  the  surface,  he  got  one  good 
breath  before  sinking  again.  But  the  pitiless  water 
engulfed  him  once  more,  and,  though  he  struggled 
hard,  he  seemed  unable  to  keep  himself  from  sink- 
ing deeper  still.  Then  the  desire  to  struggle  began 
to  leave  him.  Life  seemed  no  longer  a  thing  to  be 
fiercely  striven  for.  A  strange  peace  stole  over  his 
mind,  and  was  followed  by  a  still  stranger  thing;  for 
while  he  floated  there,  an  unresisting  prey  to  the  deep, 
it  appeared  as  though  all  the  events  of  his  past  life 
were  crowding  before  him  like  some  wonderful  pan- 
orama.   From  right  to  left,  they  followed  one  another 


i 


m^ 


m 


202 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


in  orderly  procession,  each  as  clear  and  distinct  as  a 
painted  picture,  and  he  was  watching  them  with  ab- 
sorbed, painless  interest,  when  something  darii  came 
across  his  vision ;  he  felt  himself  grasjKjd  firmly,  and 
drawn  swiftly  through  the  water,  and  the  next  thing 
he  knew,  he  was  in  the  light  and  air  again,  and  was 
being  handed  up  to  the  top  of  the  wharf  by  men  who 
passed  him  carefully  from  one  to  the  other.  In  the 
very  nick  of  time,  rescue  had  come,  and  Bert  was 
brought  back  to  life. 

Now,  wiio  was  his  rescuer,  and  what  took  place 
while  Bert  was  struggling  for  his  life  in  the  cold, 
dark  water?  The  instant  he  disappeared,  the  boys 
shouted  and  shrieked  in  such  a  way  as  to  bring  the 
whole  crew  of  the  "Santa  Maria"  to  the  bulwarks, 
over  which  they  eagerly  peered,  not  understanding 
what  was  the  matter.  Frank,  who  was  in  a  frenzy 
of  anxiety  and  alarm,  tried  hard  to  explain  to  them; 
but  his  efforts  were  unavailing  until  the  reappearance 
of  Bert's  head  made  the  matter  plain  at  once,  and 
then  he  thought  they  would,  of  course,  spring  to  the 
rescue.  But  tliey  did  not.  They  looked  at  one  an- 
other, and  jabbered  something  unintelligible,  but  not 
one  of  them  moved,  though  Frank  seized  the  liveliest 
of  them  by  the  arm,  and,  pointing  to  the  place  where 
Bert  vanished,  again  indicated,  by  unmistakable  ges- 
tures, what  he  wanted  him  to  do.  Tiie  man  simply 
shook  his  head  and  moved  away.  He  either  could 
not  swim,  or  did  not  think  it  woith  while  to  risk  his 


,iiti§n«  iiiii:i:<.iiii|. 


Ml 


BERT  liLOYD's   BOYHOOD. 


203 


precious  life  in  trying  to  rescue  one  of  the  foreign 
lU'cliins  that  had  been  bothering  the  "  Santa  Maria " 
of  late.  Had  Bert's  life  depended  upon  these  men, 
it  might  have  been  given  up  at  once. 

But  there  was  other  help  at  hand.  John  Connors, 
tlie  good-natured  Irish  storekeeper,  by  whose  suffer- 
ance the  boys  were  permitted  to  make  a  playground 
of  tlie  wharf,  had  heard  their  frantic  cries,  although 
he  was  away  up  in  one  of  the  liigliest  flats  of  the 
furthest  store.  Without  stopping  to  sec  wliat  could  be 
tlic  matter,  Connors  leaped  down  tlie  long  flights  of 
stairs  at  a  reckless  rate,  and  ran  toward  the  shrieking 
boys. 

"  Bert's  overboard — save  him  ! "  .they  cried^  as  he 
burst  into  their  midst. 

"  Where  ? "  he  asked,  breathlessly,  while  he  flung 
off  his  boots. 

"There — just  there,"  they  replied,  pointing  to 
where  Bert  had  last  been  seen. 

Balancing  himself  for  an  instant  on  the  end  of  the 
stringer,  Connors,  with  the  spring  of  a  practiced 
swimmer,  dove  into  the  depths,  and  disappeared ; 
while  the  boys,  in  the  silence  of  intense  anxiety, 
crowded  as  close  as  they  dared  to  the  edge  of  the 
wharf,  and  the  Lascars  looked  down  from  their  bul- 
warks in  stolid  admiration.  There  were  some  moments 
of  harrowing  uncertainty,  and  then  a  shout  arose  from 
the  boys,  which  even  the  swarthy  sailors  imitated,  after 
a  fashion ;  for  cleaving  the  bubbled  surface  came  the 


204 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


11 

ill 


head  of  brave  John  Connors,  and  close  beside  It  the 
dripping  curls  of  Bert  Lloyd,  the  faces  of  both  showing 
great  exhaustion. 

The  sailors  were  all  alert  now.  Ropes  were  hastily 
flung  over  the  side,  and  swarming  down  these  with 
the  agility  of  monkeys,  they  took  Bert  out  of  his 
rescuer's  hands  and  passed  him  up  to  the  wharf;  Con- 
nors followed  unassisted,  so  soon  as  he  had  recovered 
his  breath. 

Once  upon  the  wharf,  they  were  surrounded  by  a 
noisy  group  of  boys,  overjoyed  at  their  playmate's 
happy  escape  from  death,  and  overflowing  with  admir- 
ation for  his  gallant  rescuer.  Bert  very  quickly  came 
to  himself — for  he  had  not  indeed  entirely  lost  con- 
sciousness— and  then  Connors  told  him  just  how  he 
had  gotten  hold  of  him  : 

"  When  I  dived  down  first  I  couldn't  see  anything 
of  you  at  all,  my  boy,  and  I  went  hunting  about  with 
my  eyes  wide  open  and  looking  for  you.  At  last,  just 
as  I  was  about  giving  you  up,  I  saw  something  dark 
below  me  that  I  thought  might  p'r'aps  be  yourself. 
So  I  just  stuck  out  my  foot,  and  by  the  powers  if  it 
didn't  take  you  right  under  the  chin.  As  quick  as  a 
wink  I  drew  you  toward  me,  and  once  I  had  a  good 
grip  of  you,  I  put  for  the  top  as  hard  as  I  could  go ; 
and  here  we  are  now,  safe  and  sound.  And,  faith,  I 
hope  you  won't  be  trying  it  again  in  a  hurry." 

Bert  was  very  much  in  earnest  when  he  assured 
him  he  would  not,  and  still  more  in  earnest  when  he 


BEBT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


205 


tried  to  express  his  gratitude.     But  Connors  would 
none  of  it. 

"  Not  at  all,  not  at  all,  my  boy,"  said  he,  with  a 
laugh.  "  A  fine  young  chap  like  you  is  well  worth 
siiving  any  day,  and  it's  not  in  John  Connors  to  stand 
by  and  see  you  drown,  even  if  those  black-faced  fur- 
riuers  don't  know  any  better." 


^f^m^mmmi'^^ 


m. 


liiHiiiil 


'iiii'ii 


!   |!(i    j!: 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


LEARNING  TO  SWIM. 


BERT'S  appearance,  when  he  made  his  way  home 
witli  dripping  clothes,  and  face  still  pale  from 
what  he  had  undergone,  created  no  small  consterna- 
tion. His  sister  was  particularly  alarmed,  and  it  took 
some  time  to  convince  her  that,  once  having  gotten  out 
of  the  grasp  of  the  greedy  water,  he  was  really  in* no 
more  danger.  Had  she  been  permitted  to  have  her 
own  way,  she  would  have  bundled  liim  off  to  bed 
forthwith,  and  filled  up  any  little  corners  inside  of 
him  that  the  sea  water  had  left  unoccupied,  M'ith  warm 
raspberry  vinegar.  But  Bert  would  none  of  it,  and 
Mrs.  Lloyd,  although  a  good  deal  startled  at  first, 
soon  recovered  her  self-possession  sufficiently  to  agree 
with  him,  when  he  insisted  that  all  he  wanted  was 
some  dry  clothes  and  a  rest. 

The  dry  clothes  were  quickly  furnished,  and  havintj 
put  them  on,  he  returned  to  the  sitting  room  to  tell 
them  all  about  his  rescue,  Frank  being  at  hand  to  fill 
in  anv  details  that  he  missed  in  the  recital.  The 
tears  stood  in  his  mother's  eyes,  as  he  related  what  lie 
had  felt  and  thought  during  those  eventful  moments 
when  his  life  hung  in  the  balance;  tears  of  distress, 
of  sympathy,  of  joy,  and  finally  of  gratitude,  as  in 
206 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


207 


glowing  words  he  described  bow  noble  John  Connors 
liiul  dived  away  down  into  the  dark  green  depths  to 
rescue  liim  just  in  the  nick  of  time. 

"  Oil,  Bert  darling,"  she  exclaimed,  when  he  had 
finished,  folding  him  to  her  breast,  "how  good  God 
was  to  send  dear  brave  Connors  to  your  help!  We 
cannot  praise  him  enough,  and,  dearest,  don't  you 
tliink  he  must  intend  you  to  be  something  good  and 
great  for  him,  when  he  thus  spared  your  life?  And 
tliut  dear  man  Connors ! — I  feel  as  though  I  could  kiss 
the  hands  that  drew  vou  from  the  water.  Your  father 
must  go  to-night,  and  tell  him  how  grateful  we  are  ; 
and  he  must  do  more  than  that — he  must  reward  him 
well  for  runnino;  such  a  risk  to  save  our  bov." 

When  Mr.  Lloyd  came  home  and  learned  what  had 
happened,  he  made  no  pretence  of  concealing  his 
emotion.  The  very  thought  of  losing  in  that  dread- 
ful wav  the  bov  who  was  the  iov  and  pride  of  his  life 
filled  him  with  horror,  and  no  words  could  express 
his  fervent  gratitude  to  Connors,  and  to  God,  for 
sending  so  courageous  a  rescuer.  So  soon  as  dinner 
was  over  he  set  off  in  search  of  him,  taking  Bert  with 
liiin.  Connors's  home  was  easily  found,  and  Connors 
himself  sat  smoking  his  evening  pipe  upon  the  door 
step,  as  unconcernedly  as  though  he  had  done  nothing 
out  of  the  way  that  afternoon. 

The  object  of  Mr.  Lloyd's  visit  was  soon  made 
known,  but  he  found  more  difficulty  than  he  expected 
in  giving  such  expression  as  he  desired  to  the  gratitude 


•  ';V.B 


i 


II 


■V' 

i\ 

I 


mi^:^< 


imm 


liiiill; 


I 


ill 


208 


BERT  LLOYD'S  BOYHOOD. 


he  felt.  Connors  was  quite  willing  to  be  thanked, 
and  accepted  Mr.  Lljyd's  fervent  words  with  a  re- 
spectful acquiescence  that  well  became  him,  but  wlieu 
Mr.  Lloyd  broached  the  subject  of  a  more  taiigil)le 
reward,  Connors  quite  as  respectfully,  but  very  firmly, 
refused. 

"  I  want  no  reward  for  saving  your  boy,  sir.  It's 
proud  I  am  of  pulling  so  fine  a  boy  as  that  out  of  the 
water.  I  did  no  more  than  you'd  do  for  my  boy,  sir, 
if  he  were  in  the  same  scrape,"  said  he,  in  reply  to 
Mr.  Lloyd's  delicately  worded  offer. 

"That  may  be,  Connors.     I'm  sure  I  would  do 
you  say,  but  all  the  same  I  would  feel  much  lu^.c 
comfortable  if  you  would  accept  this  purse  as  some 
expression  of  my  gratitude,''  urged  Mr.  Lloyd. 

"  And,  thanking  you  kindly,  sir,  I'd  feel  much 
more  comfortable  if  I  didn't  take  it,"  returned  Con- 
nors, in  a  tone  tiiere  was  no  mistaking.  So  Mr.  Lloyd, 
resolving  in  his  mind  that  he  would  find  out  some 
other  way  of  rewarding  the  worthy  fellow,  said  uo 
more  then,  and  shortly  after  took  his  leave. 

As  Bert  and  his  father  walked  home  together  they 
were  still  talking  about  the  event  of  the  afternoon. 

"  If  you  had  been  drowned,  Bert,  it  would  to  some 
extent  have  been  rav  fault,"  said  Mr.  Llovd  :  "  for 
I  should  not  have  so  long  neglected  teaching  you  to 
swim.  A  boy  of  yoiu*  age  ought  to  be  well  able  to 
take  care  of  himself  in  the  water,  and  I  should  have 
seen  that  you  were.     However,  now  that  this  escape 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


209 


thanked, 
,ith  a  re- 
but when 
}  tangible 
jry  firmly, 

,  sir.  It's 
out  of  the 
y  boy,  sir, 
u  reply  to 

ould  do 
iiuch  lu/.c 
SB  as  some 
oyd. 

feel  much 
irned  Con- 
Mr.  Lloyd, 
out  some 
sv,  said  no 

rether  they 
fteruoon. 
lid  to  some 
Ivd;    ''for 

[nor    you  to 

;U  able  to 
lould  have 
:his  escape 


of  yours  has  waked  me  up,  I  will  attend  to  the 
matter  at  once.  So  we  will  begin  to-morrow  morning, 
.  Bert,  and  have  a  swimming  lesson  every  day  before 
breakfast." 

"  Oh,  father;  Fm  so  glad,"  exclaimed  Bert,skipping 
about  iovfullv.  "  I  want  to  know  how  to  swim  ever 
SO  much,  and  I'll  soon  learn  if  you'll  teach  me." 

"  All  right,  my  boy.  You  see  to  waking  me  in 
good  time,  and  I'll  see  that  you  learn  to  swim,"  re- 
plied Mr.  Lloyd,  clapping  Bert  affectionately  on  the 
back. 

The  next  morning  at  six  o'clock  Bert  was  rapping 
loudly  on  his  father's  door,  and  cidling  upon  him  to 
get  lip,  and  a  quarter  of  an  hour  later  the  pair  with 
towels  on  their  arms  were  off  in  the  direction  of  a 
secluded,  deserted  wharf  that  would  just  suit  their 
purpose.         •  . 

On  arriving  at  this  place,  Mr.  Lloyd  showed  Bert 
how  he  proposed  to  teach  him  to  swim,  and  it  cer- 
tainly was  about  as  excellent  a  wav  as  could  well 
have  been  devised.  He  had  brought  with  him  two 
things  besides  the  towels :  a  piece  of  roj)e  about  the 
thickness  of  a  clothes  line,  and  ten  vards  or  more  in 
length,  and  a  strong  linen  band,  two  yards  in  length. 
The  linen  band  he  put  round  Bert's  shoulders  in  such 
a  way  that  there  was  no  possibility  of  its  slipping,  or 
interfering  with  the  action  of  his  arms ;  and  then  the 
rope  was  so  fastened  to  the  band  that  when  Bert  was 

iu  the  water  his  father,  standing  on  the  wharf  above 

o 


iMi 


% 


!i-«f|MfV-^ 


210 


BERT   LLOYD'S    BOYHOOD. 


liim,  could  hold  him  in  just  the  right  position  for 


!'ii!  i  ! 


'"'I'll 

iiilli 

ill 


swnninincr. 


The  preparations  iiaving  been  completed,  Bert  was 
bidden  descend  the  steps  and  plunge  into  the  water. 
He  started  ofif  bravely  enough,  but  when  he  readied 
the  bottom  step  he  hesitated.  The  water  was  at  least 
ten  feet  in  depth  beneath  him,  and  he  had  never  been 
"  over  his  head,"  as  they  say,  before,  except  when  he 
came  so  near  being  drowned.  Naturally,  therefore, 
he  shrank  from  committing  himself  to  the  deep  in  tiiis 
fashion, 

"Well,  Bert,  what's  the  matter?  Are  you  afraid 
the  water  is  too  cold  ?  "  asked  his  father,  as  he  noticed 
his  hesitation. 

"No,  sir;  not  exactly,'^  answered  Bert, feeling  half 
ashamed  of  himself. 

"  You're  afraid  it's  too  deep,  then  ?  "  suggested  Mr. 
Lloyd.  And  Bert  looked  up  with  a  smile  that  showed 
he  had  hit  the  mark. 

"Never  mind,  ray  boy,"  said  Mr.  Lloyd,  cheer- 
ingly.  "  You're  all  right.  I  won't  let  go  of  you. 
Jump  in  like  a  man." 

Bert  hung  back  a  moment;  then,  shutting  his 
raouth  tightly  and  closing  his  eyes,  he  sprang  boldly 
into  the  cool,  green  water.  He  went  under  a  little  at 
first,  but  a  slight  tug  on  the  rope  brought  him  quickly 
to  the  top,  and  recovering  his  breath  and  his  self-pos- 
session at  the  same  time,  he  struck  out  with  his  arras 
and  kicked  with  his  legs,  according  to  the  best  of 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


211 


ition  for 

Bert  was 
[le  water. 
B  readied 
IS  at  least 
ever  been 
when  he 
therefore, 
.>ep  in  tins 

^ou  afraid 
he  notieed 

peling  half 

ested  Mr. 
Iiat  showed 

[yd,  cheer- 
:o  of  you. 

putting  ills 
iiig  boldly 

a  little  at 
lira  quickly 
lis  ?elf-pos- 
h  his  arras 

le  best  of 


his  ability.  His  motions  were  sadly  unskillful,  as 
may  be  easily  imagined,  and  although  they  used  up 
his  strength  pretty  rapidly,  they  would  not  have  kept 
his  head  above  water  for  a  minute;  but  a  gentle 
pressure  on  the  rope  in  Mr.  Lloyd's  hand  made  that 
all  right,  and,  feeling  quite  at  his  ease,  Bert  struggled 
away  until  he  was  tired  out,  and  then  his  father,  who 
had  all  the  time  been  cheering  and  directing  him, 
drew  him  back  to  the  steps,  and  the  lesson  was 
over. 

"You  did  very  well,  Bert;  very  well,  indeed," 
said  he,  in  tones  of  warm  approval,  as  Bert  proceeded. 
to  rub  off  the  salt  water  and  get  into  his  clothes  again. 
"  I  don't  think  it  will  take  a  great  many  lessons  to 
make  a  swimmer  of  vou." 

And  Mr.  Lloyd's  confidence  was  well  founded ;  for 
so  earnestly  did  Bert  give  himself  to  the  business  of 
learning  to  swim  that  by  the  end  of  a  fortnight  he 
could  go  ten  yards  out  and  back  without  any  help 
from  the  rope  at  all.  Another  fortnight  and  the  rope 
was  no  lony-er  needed.  Mr.  Llovd  now  went  into  the 
water  with  Bert,  and,  swimming  out  to  the  middle  of 
the  dock,  would  have  the  boy  come  to  him,  and  after 
resting  upon  his  broad  shoulders  a  moment,  malie 
his  way  back  to  the  steps  again. 

Thus,  in  little  more  than  a  month,  Bert  became 
quite  able  to  take  care  of  himself  in  the  water  under 
ordinary  circumstances;  and  his  father,  feeling  well 
satisfied  with  his  proficiency,  gave  him  liberty  to  go 


'ii''Sr"  I    '' 


!l!i;ii|!i 


iil 


I  I!  III! 
iililil 


" 


I 


iiiiiiiii 


m 


212 


BERT  LLOYD  d   BOYHOOD. 


to  the  wliarvos  as  often  as  he  pleased — a  boon  lint 
liiglily  appreciated. 

A  plcasnre  unshared  by  his  faithful  Frank  was  but 
half  a  pleasure  to  Bert.  Next  in  importance  to  iiis 
being  able  to  swim  himself  was  Frank's  acquiring  the 
same  invaluable  accomplishment.  Invaluable?  Yes, 
one  might  indeed  rightly  use  a  stronger  term,  and  say 
indispensable;  for  the  education  of  no  boy  is  com- 
plete until  he  has  mastered  the  art  of  swimming.  And 
if  the  boys  knew  their  own  interests  as  thoroughly  as 
their  j)arents  and  guardians  ought  to  know  tliem,  th(y 
would  agitate  all  over  the  land  for  the  provision  of 
swimming  baths  in  connection  with  their  schools,  or  in 
some  otlier  way  that  would  ensure  them  the  oppor- 
tunity of  learning  what  to  do  with  themselves  in  the 
water,  as  well  as  upon  the  land. 

Frank  could  swim  a  stroke  or  two  before  Bert  took 
him  in  hand,  and  consequently  was  soon  able  to  dis- 
pense with  the  rope ;  but  timid  little  Ernest  Linton, 
who  was  the  next  pupil,  took  a  lot  of  teaching,  and 
tliere  seemed  siiHall  prospect  of  his  conquering  his 
timidity  sufficiently  to  "go  it  alone"  before  the  swim- 
ming season  v.ould  be  over. 

The  fame  of  Bert's  swimming  school  spread  among 
his  playmates  to  an  extent  that  threatened  to  be  em- 
barrassing. By  the  time  they  were  half  way  througli 
the  midsummer  holidays,  a  crowd  of  boisterous  young- 
sters gathered  every  morning  at  the  old  wharf,  and 
struggled  for  the  use  of  band  and  rope,  until  at  last 


T" 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


213 


n 


IV  rt 


vas  but 
I  to  liis 
rin^  the 
?     Yes, 
and  say 
is  c(»iu- 
g.    And 
uglily  as 
lem,  they 
vision  of 
>ol.s,  or  in 
le  oppor- 
^^es  in  the 

►ert  took 
le  to  dis- 
t  Linton, 
hing,  and 
jering  his 

:lie  swim- 
lad  among 
Ito  be  cm- 
ly  through 
lus  young- 

^harf,  and 

Itil  at  last 


llicr'^  had  to  l)c  several  of  these  provided.  Then  they 
iiiid  fine  fun.  A  dozen  boys  would  be  in  the  water  at 
tlie  siinie  time — some  of  them  exjxjrt  swimmers,  the 
others  in  all  stages  of  learning — and  there  would  be 
races,  splashing  matches,  unex[)eet(Hl  duckings,  sly 
tricks  upon  the  nervous  learnei*s,  and  all  sorts  of 
capers,  such  as  might  be  expected  from  boys  of  tlieir 
aL-^e  and  enterprise. 

By  way  of  deepening  the  interest  in  this  healthful 
amusement,  they  organized  a  competition,  the  prizes 
being  supplied  by  their  parents,  who  were  duly  waited 
upon  by  a  properly-authorized  committee ;  and  one 
tine  August  afternoon,  the  sleepy  old  wharf  was  made 
to  fairly  tremble  with  excitement,  as  race  followed 
race  in  quick  succession,  amid  the  cheering  and  shout- 
ing of  some  two-score  vigorous  boys.  Much  to  his 
delight,  Frank  succeeded  in  carrying  off  the  first 
prize.  He  was  a  persistent,  painstaking  fellow  when 
his  interest  was  thoroughly  aroused,  and  while  other 
chaps  were  skylarking  about  in  the  water,  he  had 
been  practicing  long  swims,  the  consequence  of  which 
was  that  at  the  competition — when,  of  course,  the 
best  prize  was  given  for  the  longest  mce;  the  course, 
in  this  instance,  being  out  to  the  head  of  the  wharf, 
and  back — Frank  left  all  the  other  contestants  behind, 
and  came  in  an  easy  winner. 

Bert  was  exceedingly  pleased.  He  had  not  w'on 
any  prizes  himself,  except  an  unimportant  little  second 
one ;  but  Frank's  success  more  than  consoled  him,  and 


214 


BERT  LLOYD'S   BOYHOOD. 


!l  i!     ! 


I'.lllliilli 


he  bore  him  oif  home  with  him  in  high  glee,  that  the 
family  might  share  in  the  joy  of  the  occasion. 

Nearly  two  years  now  had  passed  since  the  two 
friends  first  made  one  another's  acquaintance,  and  the 
course  of  events  had  fully  confirmed  the  expectation 
of  Bert's  parents,  that  he  would  be  far  more  likely  to 
influence  Frank  for  good  than  Frank  would  be  to 
influence  him  for  evil.  There  had  been  unmistakable 
improvement  in  Frank,  both  in  manners  and  morals. 
Constant  as-sociation  with  a  playmate  brought  up  under 
home  influences  so  diff'erent  from  his  own ;  the  wise 
and  kindly  words  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  L.'oyd  lost  no 
opportunity  of  speaking  to  him ;  the  refinement  and 
brightness  of  their  home;  the  atmosphere  of  sunny 
religion  that  pervaded  it ;  and  all  these  supplemented 
by  an  ever  interesting  presentation  of  common-sense 
Christianity  at  the  hands  of  Mr.  Silver  every  Sunday 
afternoon,  had  worked  deep  into  Frank's  strong,  stead- 
fast nature,  and  without  being  distinctly  conscious  of 
it  himself,  he  was  growing  refined,  pure,  and  religious 
in  thought  and  desire,  like  those  with  whom  it  was 
the  joy  of  his  life  to  associate.  The  current  of  his 
being  had  been  turned  Godward,  and  in  him,  though 
he  knew  it  not,  Bert  had  won  the  first  star  for  his 
crown. 


that  the 

the  two 
and  the 
pectation 
likely  to 
Id  be  to 
istakable 
I  morals. 
up  under 
the  wise 
i  lost  no 
nent  and 
of  sunny 
ilemented 
Qon-scnse 
y  Sunday 
ng,  stead- 
iscious  of 
I  religious 
im  it  was 
!nt  of  his 
n,  though 
ar  for  his 


CHAPTER  XX  EI. 

HOW   HOISTING  WAS  ABOLISHED. 

THE  month  of  September  was  close  at  hand,  and 
Bert  would  soon  begin  his  second  year  with  Dr. 
Johnston.  Mr.  Lloyd,  though  well  content  with  the 
progress  his  son  had  been  making  in  his  studies, 
thought  it  would  be  a  wise  thing  to  hold  out  some 
extra  inducement  that  might  incite  him  to  still  greater 
diligence,  and  so  one  evening,  while  the  family  were 
sitting  together,  he  broached  the  subject : 

"  Dr.  Johnston  giyes  a  lot  of  prizes  at  the  end  of 
the  term,  doesn't  he,  Bert  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir,  a  good  many;  always  books, you  know," 
answered  Bert. 

'•  Why  didn't  you  get  a  prize  of  some  kind  last 
term  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Lloyd,  with  a  smile. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,  father.  Didn't  try  hard 
enough,  I  suppose,"  replied  Bert,  smiling  in  his  turn. 

"Well,  do  vou  intend  to  try  this  term,  Bert?" 

"Indeed  I  do;  and  Frank's  going  to  try,  too.  My 
best  chance  is  in  the  arithmetic,  so  I'm  going  to  try 

C  ,\  ,  -11,  .  .  /«  J, 

I  mar. 


going 


grami 


"Very  well,  then,  Bert,  do  your  best;  and  if  you 
win  a  prize  I  will  give  you  what  you  have  wanted  so 
long — ; 


a 


pony 


216 


216 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


The  expression  of  Bert's  counteuance  at  this  quite 
unexpected  announcement  was  a  study.  His  eyes  and 
mouth,  the  former  with  surprise,  the  latter  with  a 
smile,  opened  to  their  fullest  extent,  and  for  a  monent 
he  stood  mctiouless.  Then,  springing  across  the  floor, 
he  leaped  into  his  father's  lap,  put  both  arms  around 
his  neck,  and  burying  his  happy  face  in  the  brown 
whiskers,  ejaculated,  fervently  : 

"You  dear,  dear  father,  you  dear,  dear  father, 
how  I  do  love  vou ! " 

Mr.  Lloyd  returned  the  aifectionate  hug  with  in- 
terest, and  then,  holding  Bert  out  on  his  knee,  said,  in 
a  playful  tone : 

"Aren't  you  in  too  much  of  a  hurry  about  thank- 
ing me,  Bert  ?  You  haven't  won  your  pony  yet,  you 
know?" 

"  That's  all  right,  father,"  returned  Bert.  "  I  mean 
to  win  it,  and  what's  more,  I'm  going  to." 

It  need  hard  I  v  be  said  that  the  first  item  of  news 
Eert  had  for  his  friend  Frank  next  morning  was  iiis 
father's  offer. 

"  Won't  it  be  splendid  to  have  a  pony  of  my  very 
own  I"  he  exclaimed,  his  eyes  dancing  with  delight  at 
the  prospect.  "Perhaps  your  father  will  give  you  a 
pony,  too,  if  you  win  a  prize ;  hey,  Frank  ?  " 

Frank  shook  his  head  dubiously  : 

"Not  much  chance  of  that,  Bert.  That's  not  his 
way  of  doing  things." 

"  Oh,  well,  never  mind.    You  can  ride  turn  about 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


217 


with  me  ou  miue,  and  we'll  have  just  splendid 
fun." 

As  the  boys  were  talking  together,  little  Ernest 
Linton  approached,  looking  as  if  he  liad  something 
on  his  mind.  Getting  close  to  Bert,  he  touched  him 
gently  on  tiie  arm  to  attract  his  attention,  and,  turning 
a  very  earnest,  appealing  face  to  his,  said : 

"Bert,  I  want  to  ask  a  favor." 

"Hallo,  Ernie!  what's  up?"  asked  Bert,  in  his 
kindest  tones. 

Ernest  then  proceeded  to  tell  him  that  his  younger 
brother,  Paul,  was  to  come  to  the  school  in  a  few  days, 
and  that  he  was  a  very  timid,  delicate  little  ciiap,  that 
would  be  sure  to  be  half  frightened  out  of  his  life  if 
they  hoisted  him ;  and  what  Ernest  wanted  was  that 
Bert  and  Frank  should  see  if  they  could  not,  in  some 
way  or  other,  save  Paul  from  being  hoisted. 

The  two  boys  were  filled  with  the  idea  at  once.  It 
was  good  enough  fun  to  hoist  sturdy  fellows  like 
themselves,  who  were  none  the  worse  for  it ;  but  if 
Paul  were  the  sort  of  chap  his  brother  said  he  was, 
it  would  be  a  real  shame  to  give  him  sucli  a  scare,  and 
they  would  do  their  best  to  prevent  its  being  done. 
Accordingly,  they  promised  Ernest  they  would  pro- 
tect his  brother  if  they  could,  and  Ernest  felt  very 
much  relieved  at  their  promise. 

But  how  were  they  going  to  carry  it  out?  No 
exceptions  had  been  made  as  to  the  hoisting  since  they 
had  come  to  Dr.  Johnston's,  but  all  new  boys  were 


n— -^"wp^jwipi 


i  i 


ill  il !  1 


%  1 
.ill 

218 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


hoisted  with  perfect  impartiality.  They  would  be 
powerless  by  themselves,  that  was  certain.  Their 
only  plan  was  to  persuade  a  lot  of  the  boys  to  join 
them,  and  they  did  not  feel  entirely  sure  about  being- 
able  to  do  this.  However,  the  first  thing  to  be  done 
was  to  ask  Teter  Johnston.  If  they  could  enlist  his 
sympathies,  tlieir  task  would  be  a  good  deal  easier. 
Accordingly,  at  recess  they  made  directly  for  Teter,  and 
laid  the  whole  matter  before  him.  Like  themselves, 
he  took  hold  of  it  at  once.  It  was  just  the  sort  of 
thing  that  would  appeal  to  his  big,  warm,  manly 
heart,  and  without  hesitation  he  promised  the  boys  he 
would  give  them  all  the  help  in  his  power. 

The  next  step  was  to  secure  recruits  for  their  party. 
In  this  Teter  helped  them  greatly,  and  Frank  was 
very  active,  too,  because  big  Rod  Graham,  whom  he 
disliked  none  the  less,  though  Bert  had  thrashed  him 
so  soundly,  always  headed  the  hoisting  party,  and 
Frank  looked  forward  with  keen  delight  to  balking 
this  tormenting  bully  by  means  of  the  anti-hoisting 
party  they  were  now  organizing. 

Of  course,  the  movement  could  not  be  kept  a  secret. 
It  soon  leaked  out,  and  then  Rod  Graham  and  Dick 
Wilding — who,  by  the  way,  since  the  stolen  money 
episode,  had  been  as  cool  in  his  relations  with  Bert  as 
he  had  previously  been  cordial,  evidently  resenting 
very  much  Bert's  withdrawal  from  his  companion- 
ship— tliese  two,  with  their  associates,  began  to 
organize  in  their  turn,  so  that  it  was  not  long  before 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


219 


the  school  was  divided  iuto  two  parties,  both  of  wliich 
were  looking  forward  eagerly  to  the  event  which 
should  decide  which  would  have  their  own  wav. 

On  the  Monday  following  the  opening  of  tlie  school 
Ernest  Linton  brought  his  brother  with  hiin,  a  slight, 
pale,  delicate  little  fellow,  not  more  tlian  eight  years 
old,  wlio  clung  close  to  his  brother's  side,  and  looked 
about  with  a  frightened  air  that  was  sufficient  in  itself 
to  arouse  one's  sympathies.  Bert  and  Frank  had 
known  him  before,  but  Teter  had  never  seen  him,  and 
his  kind  heart  prompted  him  to  go  up  and  slap  the 
little  fellow  kindly  on  the  back,  saying  : 

"So  you're  Linton's  Brother  Paul,  eh?  Cheer  up, 
little  chap;  we'll  see  they're  not  too  hard  upon  you." 

Paul's  pale  face  brightened,  and  looking  up  with  a 
grateful  glance,  he  said,  softly : 

"  Thank  you,  sir." 

Teter  laughed  at  being  "  sirred,"  and  went  oflP,  feel- 
ing quite  pleased  with  himself. 

According  to  the  custom  of  the  school,  Paul  would 
be  hoisted  at  the  midday  recess  of  the  following  day, 
and  the  boys  looked  forward  eagerly  to  the  struggle 
for  which  they  had  been  preparing.  During  the 
morning  their  thoughts  clearly  were  not  upon  the  les- 
sons, and  so  many  mistakes  were  made  that  the 
shrewd  doctor  suspected  there  must  be  something 
brewing,  but  preferred  to  let  it  reveal  itself  rather 
than  to  interfere  by  premature  questions.  He  was  a 
profound  student  of  human  nature,  and  especially  of 


Vi 


4 


V 1' 


220 


3ERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


boy  nature.  He  knew  his  boys  as  thoroughly  as  an 
Eastern  shepherd  ever  knew  his  sheep.  They  were 
like  open  books  before  him,  and  in  this  perhaps  more 
than  in  anything  else  lay  the  secret  of  his  rare  success 
as  a  teacher. 

When  the  eagerly  expected  recess  came,  all  the  boys, 
with  the  exception  of  a  small  group,  poured  out 
tumultuously  into  the  street,  and  ranged  themselves 
in  two  bands  in  close  proximity  to  the  door.  The 
I'i'n  .  that  remained  consisted  of  the  two  Lintons, 
Bert,  Frank,  and  Teter,  the  latter  three  constituting  a 
bor^  of  I  ''-guard  for  poor  timorous  little  Paul,  wiio 
shrank  iu  terror  from  the  ordeal,  the  nature  of  which 
in  truth  he  did  not  fullv  understand.  Havinjs:  con- 
suited  together  for  a  minute  or  two,  the  body-guard 
then  moved  out  through  the  door,  taking  care  to  keep 
Paul  in  the  middle.  As  thev  emerged  into  the  street, 
a  kind  of  hum  of  suppressed  excitement  rose  from  the 
crowd  awaiting  them,  followed  immediately  by  cries 
of  "Hoist  him  !  hoist  him  !"  uttered  first  bv  Graham 
and  Wilding,  and  quickly  taken  up  by  their  sup- 
porters. 

Pale  with  fright,  Paul  cowered  close  to  Teter,  while 
Bert  and  Frank  stood  in  front  of  him,  and  their  sup- 
porters quickly  encircled  them.  Then  came  tlie 
struggle.  Graham  and  Wilding  and  their  party  bore 
down  upon  Paul's  defenders,  and  sought  to  break 
their  way  through  them  to  reach  tiieir  intended  victim. 
Of  course,  no  blows  were  struck.    The  boys  all  knew 


illillli  !il: 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


221 


better  than  to  do  that ;  but  pushing,  hauling,  wrestling, 
very  much  after  the  fashion  of  football  players  in  a 
maul,  the  one  party  strove  to  seize  Paul,  who  indeed 
offered  no  more  resistance  than  an  ordinary  football, 
and  the  other  to  prevent  his  being  carried  off.  Fop 
some  minutes  the  issue  was  uncertain,  although  the 
hoisting  party  considerably  outnumbered  the  anti- 
hoisting  party.  More  than  once  did  Graham  and 
Wilding  force  their  wav  into  the  centre  of  Paul's 
defenders,  and  almost  have  him  in  their  grasp,  only  to 
he  tlirust  awav  again  bv  the  faithful  trio  that  stood 
about  him  like  the  three  of  whom  Macaulay's  ringing 
ballad  tells : 

"  How  well  Horatius  kept  the  bridge. 
In  the  brave  days  of  old." 

Shouting,  struggling,  swaying  to  and  fro,  the  contest 
went  on,  much  to  the  amusement  of  a  crowd  of  spec- 
tators, among  which  the  tall,  blue-coated  form  of  a 
policeman  loomed  up  prominently,  although  he 
deigned  not  to  interfere.  At  length  the  weight  of 
superior  numbers  began  to  tell,  and  despite  all  their 
efforts  the  anti-hoisting  party  were  borne  slowly  but 
surely  toward  the  fence,  upon  which  some  of  the  boys 
had  already  taken  their  positions,  ready  to  have  Paul 
handed  up  to  them.  The  case  was  looking  desperate, 
and  Teter,  heated  and  wearied  witii  his  exertions,  had 
just  said,  in  his  deepest  tones,  to  Bt^rt  and  Frank, 
"Come,  boys,  all  together,  try  it  once  more,"  when 
suddenly  a  silence  fell  upon  the  noisy  mob,  and  their 


';^!l 


wi^ 


222 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


arms,  a  moment  l)efore  locked  in  tense  struggling,  fell 
limply  to  tlieir  sides ;  for  there,  standing  between 
them  and  the  fence,  his  keen,  dark  face  lighted  with  a 
curious  smile,  and  holding  his  hand  above  his  head  by 
way  of  a  shield  from  the  hot  sun,  stood  Dr.  Johnston  ! 

A  genuine  ghost  at  midnight  could  hardly  have 
startled  the  boys  more.  Absorbed  in  their  struggle, 
they  had  not  seen  the  doctor  until  thev  were  fairlv 
upon  him.  For  aught  they  knew  he  had  been  a  spec- 
tator of  the  proceedings  from  the  outset.  What  would 
he  think  of  them  ?  Rod  Graham  and  Dick  Wilding, 
slaves  to  a  guilty  conscience,  slunk  into  the  rciir  of 
their  party,  while  Bert,  and  Frank,  and  Teter,  glad 
of  the  unexpected  relief,  wiped  their  brows  and  ar- 
ranged their  disordered  clothing,  as  they  awaited  the 
doctor's  utterance.    It  soon  came. 

"  I  desire  an  explanation  of  this  unseemly  disturb- 
ance. The  school  will  follow  me  immediately  into 
the  schoolroom,"  said  he,  somewhat  sternly;  and 
turning  upon  his  heel  went  back  to  his  desk,  the  boys 
following  at  a  respectful  distance. 

When  all  had  been  seated,  and  the  room  was  quiet, 
Dr.  Johnston  asked  : 

"  Will  the  leaders  in  the  proceedings  outside  come 
to  my  desk  ?  " 

There  was  a  moment's  pause,  and  then  Teter  rose 
from  his  seat,  Bert  immediately  imitating  him,  and 
the  two  walked  slowly  down  to  the  open  space  before 
the  master's  desk. 


BERT  LLOYD'S    BOYHOOD. 


223 


Having  waited  a  minute,  and  no  one  else  appearing, 
tlie  doctor  leaned  forward  and  said  to  his  nephew : 

"  You  and  Lloyd  were  on  the  same  side,  were  you 
not?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  Teter. 

"  Well,  who  were  the  leaders  of  the  other  side  ?  I 
wish  to  know." 

"  Graham  and  Wilding,  sir,"  answered  Teter. 

"  Graham  and  Wilding,  come  forward,"  called  the 
doctor,  sternly ;  and  the  two  boys,  looking  very  con- 
scious and  shamefaced,  reluctantly  left  their  seats  and 
took  their  places  before  the  throne. 

"  Now,  then,  I  wish  to  be  informed  of  the  whole 
matter,"  said  the  doctor. 

Bert  looked  at  Teter,  and  Teter  looked  at  Bert. 

"  You  tell  him,"  he  whispered ;  "  you  know  most 
about  it." 

Thereupon,  with  the  utmost  frankness,  Bert  pro- 
ceeded to  tell  his  story,  beginning  at  his  first  talk  with 
Ernest  Linton. 

The  doctor  listened  intently,  his  inscrutable  face 
revealing  nothing  as  to  how  the  story  impressed  him. 
Wlien  Bert  had  finished,  he  turned  to  Graham  and 
Wilding,  and  asked  them : 

"  Is  Lloyd's  statement  correct  ?  or  have  you  any- 
thing to  add?" 

They  hung  their  heads,  and  were  silent. 

The  doctor  looked  very  hard  at  them  for  a  moment, 
during  which  the  silence  was  so  intense  that  the  fall 


sill 


>':    'J 


i.   <L 


224 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


■  J 


of  a  pin  upon  the  floor  would  have  been  heard ;  tlieii, 
turning  to  the  school,  he  spoke  as  follows : 

"  The  events  that  have  just  transpired  have  hastened 
a  decision  that  ha^  been  forming  in  my  mind  for  some 
time  past.  I  was  not  unaware  of  this  practice  of  which 
Lloyd  has  just  spoken,  but  deemed  it  well  not  to  inter- 
fere until  my  interference  should  seem  necessary.  Tliat 
time,  in  my  judgment,  has  arrived,  and  I  have  deter- 
mined that  there  shall  be  no  more  of  this  hoisting.  Be 
it,  tlierefore,  distinctly  understood  by  the  pupils  of  this 
school,  that  any  future  attempts  at  the  hoisting  of 
new  boys  will  incur  punishment,  and  possibly  even 
expulsion  from  the  school.  You  will  now  resume 
work." 

A  subdued  murmur  of  applause  arose  from  the  anti- 
hoisting  party  at  the  conclusion  of  the  doctor's  an- 
nouncement. They  had  more  than  carried  their  point ; 
for,  intending  only  to  protect  Paul  Linton,  they  had 
obtained  the  complete  abolition  of  the  practice.  Bert 
was  greatly  elated,  and  could  talk  of  nothing  else  when 
he  got  home.  Father,  and  mother,  and  sister,  had  to 
listsn  to  the  fullest  details  of  the  struggle  and  its  sur- 
prising issue,  and  Bert  fairly  outdid  himself  in  the 
vigor  and  minuteness  of  his  description.  When  the 
fountain  of  his  eloquence  at  last  ran  dry,  Mr.  Lloyd 
had  a  chance  to  say,  with  one  of  his  expressive 
smiles : 

"And  so  my  boy  has  come  out  as  a  reformer. 
Well,  Bert  dear,  you  have  taken  the  first  step  in  the 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


225 


most  thankless  and  trying  of  all  careers,  and  yet  I 
would  not  discourage  you  for  the  world.  I  would 
a  thousand  times  rather  have  you  a  reformer  than  an 
opposer  of  reforms.  1  wonder  what  work  God  has  in 
store  for  you." 


'■ji- 


CHAPTER  XXIII 


PRIZE   WINNING  AND   LOSING. 

THERE  were  many  ways  in  which  the  methods 
employed  at  Dr.  Johnston's  schoo  were  unique. 
The  system  of  registering  attendance,  proficiency, 
and  conduct  has  been  already  fully  e  :plained.  It 
was  hardly  possible  that  this  could  ha  e  been  tuoie 
perfect.  No  boy  could  be  absent  "^  ithout  being 
missed,  and  an  explanation  or  excuse  c  f  a  thorouglily 
satisfactory  nature  was  required  the  xt  day.  No 
mistake  could  occur  as  to  the  standi)  *  the  pupils 
in  the  different  classes.  The  record  of  c^ir'i  ^ay  Avas 
all  comprehensive.  It  constituted  a  photograph,  so  u, 
speak,  of  each  pupil's  doings,  in  so  far  as  they  related 
to  his  school,  and  the  doctor  was  exceedingly  proud  of 
the  journals,  which  he  kept  with  scrupulous  care  aud 
neatness. 

Another  feature  of  the  school,  peculiar  to  itself,  was 
the  system  by  which  a  knowledge  of  arithmetic  was 
fostered,  and  the  faculty  of  using  it  quickly  was  de- 
veloped. The  whole  of  one  morning  each  week  was 
devoted  to  this.  The  scholars  v/ere  grouped  in  clas-cs 
according  to  their  varying  proficiency,  care  being 
taken  to  give  eacii  one  a  fair  chance  by  associating 
him  with  those  who  were  about  as  far  advanced  as  him- 
226 


I 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


227 


self.  Tliese  classes  were  then  arraiigetl  upon  seats 
very  much  after  tlie  fashion  of  a  Sunday-school,  save 
that  iustead  of  a  teuciiei'  being  in  their  centre,  they 
were  phiced  around  a  backless  chair,  in  such  a  manner 
tliut  it  was  equally  convenient  of  access  to  all.  Each 
l)oy  had  his  slate  and  (icncil  in  readiness. 

The  school  having  been  called  to  order,  the  doctor 
then  proceeded  to  read  out  to  the  senior  class  a 
problem  in  proportion  or  compound  interest,  or  what- 
ever it  might  be,  and  this  they  hurriedly  scribbled 
down  on  their  slates.  If  they  did  not  understand  it 
fully  at  first,  he  would  read  it  again,  but  of* 
course  never  gave  any  explanations.  So  soon  as  a 
scholar  had  clearly  grasped  the  problem  to  be  solved, 
he  set  to  work  at  its  solution  with  all  his  might,  and 
it  was  a  most  interesting  spectacle  to  watch  when  the 
whole  class,  with  heads  bent  close  to  the  slates,  made 
tiicir  squeaking,  scratciiing  pencils  fly  over  them. 
Every  possible  shade  of  mental  condition,  from  con- 
fident knowledge  to  foreboding  bewilderment,  would 
be  expressed  in  their  faces.  The  instant  one  of  them 
had  completed  his  work,  he  banged  his  slate  down 
upou  the  backless  chair,  with  the  writing  turned 
under.  The  others  followed  as  best  they  could,  and 
all  the  slates  being  down,  they  awaited  the  doctor's 
coining  around  to  their  class  again. 

When  Dr.  Johnston  had  completed  the  round  of 
the  classes,  and  given  each  a  problem,  he  would,  after 
a  pause,  call  upon  each  in  turn  to  read  the  answtirs  as 


Ik  Mm 


228 


BERT  LLOYDS   BOVHOOD. 


set  down  upon  the  slate.  Tlie  boy  whose  slate  was 
first  on  the  ciiair,  and  therefore  at  the  botcora  of  the 
pile,  would  read  his  answer  first.  If  it  were  correct, 
he  scored  a  point,  and  none  of  the  others  were  called 
upon.  If  incorrect,  the  next  to  him  would  read  his 
answer,  and  so  on  until  a  correct  answer  was  given, 
and  a  point  scored  by  somebody.  Only  one  point 
could  be  made  each  round,  and  so  the  unsuccessful 
ones  had  to  console  themselves  with  the  hope  of  hav- 
ing better  luck  next  time.  Not  more  than  four  or 
five  rounds  would  be  had  each  dav,  and  it  rarelv 
happened  that  the  same  boy  would  be  successful  in  all 
of  them.  Tliree  points  were  considered  a  very  good 
day's  work,  and  if  a  boy  made  four  points  he  was 
apt  to  feel  that  the  prize  in  that  class  was  as  good  as 
his,  until  some  other  boy  made  four  points  also,  and 
thereby  lessened  his  chances. 

It  did  not  always  happen  that  being  first  down  with 
his  slate  assured  tlie  scholar  of  scoring  a  point.  A 
slight  mistake  in  his  addition,  subtraction,  or  division 
might  have  thrown  him  oflf  the  track,  and  then  num- 
ber t\vo,  or  maybe  number  three,  would  come  in  with 
a  correct  answer  and  triumphantly  score  the  point, 
success  'ng  all  the  sweeter,  because  of  being  some- 
what '    cixpected. 

Now  this  kind  of  competition  suited  Bert  thor- 
oughly. He  was  as  quick  as  any  of  his  companionc, 
cooler  than  manv  of  them,  and  had  bv  this  time  ac- 
quired  a  very  good  understanding  of  the  chief  prin- 


:v!a 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


229 


i  slate  was 
torn  of  the 
ere  correct, 
were  called 
Id  read  his 
was  given, 
r  one  point 
Qusuccessful 
lope  of  hav- 
han  four  or 
nd  it  rarely 
cessful  in  all 
a  very  good 
oiuts  he  was 
8  as  good  as 
ints  also,  and 

st  down  with 
a  point.  A 
n,  or  division 
id  then  uuiu- 
come  in  with 
re  the  point, 
being  some- 

d   Bert  thor- 

g  companions, 

this  time  ac- 

le  chief  prin- 


ciples of  arithmetic.  He  greatly  enjoyed  the  working 
airainst  time,  which  was  the  distinctive  feature  of  the 
contest.  It  brought  out  his  mental  powers  to  tiieir 
utmost,  and  he  looked  forward  to  "  arithmetic  day  " 
witli  an  eagerness  that  was  not  caused  entirelv  bv 
wliat  his  father  had  promised  him  in  the  event  of  his 
being  successful  in  carrying  off  a  prize. 

In  tlie  same  class  with  him  were  Frank  Bowser, 
Ernest  Linton,  and  a  half  dozen  other  boys  of  simi- 
lar age  and  standing  in  the  school.  He  had  no  fear 
of  Frank  or  Ernest.  Tiiev  were  no  match  for  hira 
either  as  to  knowledge,  or  rapidity  of  work  ;  but  there 
was  a  bov  in  the  class  who  seem.ed  fullv  his  equal  in 
both  respects.  This  was  Levi  Cohen,  a  dark-skinned 
black-haired  chap,  whose  Jewish  features  were  in  en- 
tire harmony  with  his  Jewish  name.  He  was  indeed 
a  JeW;  and,  young  though  he  was,  had  all  the  depth, 
self-control,  and  steadfastness  of  purpose  of  that 
strange  race.  He  also  had,  as  the  sequel  will  show, 
their  indifference  as  to  the  Tightness  of  the  means 
employed  so  long  as  the  end  in  view  was  gained. 

The  school  had  been  in  session  for  more  than  a 
month,  and  those  who  were  particularly  interested  in 
tlie  arithmetic  competitions  were  already  calculating 
their  chances  of  success.  In  Bert's  class  it  was  clear 
bevond  a  doubt  timt  the  contest  lav  between  him  and 
Levi  Cohen.  It  rarely  happened  that  they  did  not 
monopolize  the  points  between  them,  and  so  far,  they 
had  divided  them  pretty  evenly.    One  day  Bert  would 


lillM? 


ills 


230 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


score  three  and  Levi  two,  and  then  the  next  week  Levi 
would  have  three,  and  Bert  two,  and  feo  it  went  on 
from  week  to  week. 

As  the  second  month  drew  to  a  close,  Bert  began 
to  gain  upon  his  rival.  He  nearly  always  made  tlie 
majority  of  the  points,  and  was  now  at  least  six  ahead. 
Then  suddenly  the  tide  turned  and  -evi  seemed  to 
have  it  all  his  own  way.  The  qui(whess  with  wliicli 
he  got  the  answers  was  bewildering.  Nay,  more,  it 
was  even  suspicious.  One  familiar  with  the  details  of 
the  problems  given,  and  the  amount  of  work  a  full 
working  out  would  require,  could  not  help  being 
struck  by  the  fact  that  Cohen  seemed  to  arrive  at  his 
answer  after  a  remarkably  small  expenditure  of  slate 
pencil.  Time  and  again  he  would  have  his  slate  down 
at  least  half  a  minute  before  Bert  did  his,  although  pre- 
vious to  this  sudden  change  in  his  fortunes,  the  differ- 
ence in  time  between  them  had  been  rarelv  more  than  a 
few  seconds.  Then  again  it  was  noticeable  that  he  took 
the  utmost  care  that  none  of  the  others  should  see 
what  was  on  his  slate.  He  did  his  work  in  a  corner, 
hunched  up  over  it  so  that  it  was  well-concealed,  and 
he  snatched  his  slate  away  from  the  pile  at  the  very 
first  opportunity. 

Bert  noticed  all  these  things,  and  they  perj)]exe(l 
him  quite  as  much  as  Cohen's  rapid  gain  alarmed  iiiin. 
He  soon  became  convinced  that  there  was  something 
wrong,  that  Cohen  was  doing  crooked  work ;  but, 
puzzle  his  brains  as  he  might,  he  could  not  get  at  the 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


231 


bottom  of  the  mystery.  Frank  and  Ernest  fully 
sliiired  his  suspicions,  and  they  had  many  a  talk  over 
the  matter.  Frank  thoi  glit  that  Cohen  must  have 
the  answers  written  on  a  piece  of  paper  which 
he  managed  to  peep  at  somehow  wliiie  all  the  other 
boys  were  absorbeil  in  working  out  the  problems ;  but 
ahliough  he  on  several  occasions  purposely  refrained 
from  doing  anything  himself  in  order  to  watch  Cbheu 
tlie  more  closely,  he  failed  to  find  the  slightest  ground 
for  his  suspicions  in  that  direction.  Then  Bert  put 
forward  his  theorv. 

"  I'll  tell  what  it  is,  Frank :  Cohen  must  learn  the 
answers  off  by  heart,  and  then  he  sets  them  down 
without  working  out  the  whole  sum." 

"  Shouldn't  wonder  a  bit,"  said  Frank.  "  He's 
got  a  great  memory,  I  know,  and  we  always  can  tell 
from  what  part  of  the  arithmetic  Dr.  Johnston  is 
going  to  get  the  sums." 

"  But  how  can  we  make  sure  of  it,  Frank  ?  "•  in- 
quired Bert,  anxiously. 

"  The  only  way  is  to  get  hold  of  his  slate,  and  see 
how  he  works  his  sums  out,"  replied  Frank. 

'•  Yes  J  but  he  takes  precious  good  care  not  to  let 
anybody  see  how  he  does  them." 

''  So  he  does  ;  but  we've  got  to  find  out  some  way, 
and  I'm  going  to  do  it,  so  sure  as  my  name's  Frank 
Bowser." 

"How'U  you  manage  it,  Frank?"  asked  Bert, 
brightening  up ;  for  he  really  was  a  good  deal  trou- 


232 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


m: 


bled  over  Cohen's  eontiuued  success,  particularly  as 
he  felt  so  strongly  that  there  was  something  wrong  at 
the  bottom  of  it. 

"I  don't  know  yet,  Bert;  but  I'll  find  out  a  way 
somehow.     See  if  you  can't  think  of  a  plan  yourself." 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do:  I'll  ask  father  about 
it,"  said  Bert,  in  a  tone  that  implied  perfect  confidence 
in  Mr.  Llovd's  ability  to  furnish  a  solution  for  anv 
difficulty. 

Accordingly,  that  evening,  Bert  laid  the  whole  case 
before  his  father,  who  listened  with  judicial  gravity, 
and  then  proceeded  to  ask  a  question  or  two : 

"  You  feel  quite  sure  that  Cohen  does  not  take  the 
time  to  work  out  the  suras  properly  ?  " 

"  Yes,  father ;  perfectly  sure." 

"  Then  why  don't  you  inform  Dr.  Johnston  of  your 
suspicions,  and  he  will  make  an  examination  into  the 
matter?" 

"  Oh,  father ! "  exclaimed  Bert,  with  a  look  of  pro- 
found surprise.  "  You  wouldn't  have  me  turn  tattle- 
tale,  would  vou?" 

"  No,  Bert  dear ;  indeed,  I  would  not,  although  you 
should  lose  a  dozen  prizes.  I  said  that  simply  to  see 
what  you  would  think  of  it,  and  I  am  glad  you 
answered  me  as  I  expected  you  would.  But,  Bert, 
you  have  asked  my  advice  in  this  matter.  Did  you 
think  of  asking  somebody  else  who  is  infinitely  wiser 
than  I  am?" 

Bert  understood  his  father  at  once. 


BERT  LLOYD^S   BOYHOOD. 


233 


*'  No,  father ;  I  did  not.    I  never  thought  of  it," 
lie  answered,  frankly. 

"  Then  had  you  not  better  do  so  when  you  are  say- 
ing your  prayers  to-night  ?  " 

''  I  will,  father.     I'm  so  glad  you  reminded  me." 
And  with  that  Bert  dropped  the  subject  for  the  time. 

That  night,  ere  he  went  to  bed,  Bert  laid  the  mat- 
ter before  his  Father  in  heaven,  just  as  he  had  done 
before  his  father  upon  earth.  He  had  imbibed  his 
ideas  of  prayer  from  what  he  heard  from  his  own 
fatlier  at  family  worship.  Mr.  Lloyd's  conception  of 
prayer  was  that  it  could  not  be  too  simple,  too 
straightforward.  It  often  seemed  as  though  God 
were  present  in  the  room,  and  he  was  talking  with 
him,  so  natural,  so  sincere,  so  direct  were  his  petitions. 
And  Bert  had  learned  to  pray  in  the  same  manner. 
A  listener  might  at  times  be  tempted  to  smile  at  the 
frankness,  the  naivete  of  Bert's  requests;  but  they 
were  uttered  not  more  in  bovish  earnest  than  in  truest 
reverence  by  the  petitioner,  and  there  was  no  fear  of 
their  being  misunderstood  by  him  to  whom  they  were 
offered. 

The  next  morning,  when  Bert  came  d'^wn  to  the 
breakfast  room,  he  was  evidently  in  the  best  of  spirits. 

"It's  all  right,  father,"  said  he.  "I  asked  God  to 
show  me  what's  the  best  thing  to  do,  and  I'm  sure  he 
will." 

"  That's  it,  Bert ;  that's  the  way  to  look  at  it," 
replied  Mr.  Lloyd,  with  a  smile  of  warm  approval. 


;!!!l!l'" 


■if!  I'd 


234 


BEET  LLOYD'S  BOYHOOD. 


I 


5  I  ii 


11 


w 


ill 


'■I 


On  reaching  the  school  Bert  found  Frank  awaiting 
him. 

"  I've  got  it !  Fve  got  it ! "  he  shouted,  so  soon 
as  Bert  appeared.     "  I  know  how  Levi  manages  it 

MOW." 

"  How  is  it  ?"  asked  Bert,  eagerly. 

"  Why,  he  learns  all  the  answers  off  by  heart,  and 
then  doesn't  work  out  the  sums  at  all,  but  just  pre- 
tends to,  and  slaps  down  the  answer  before  the  rest  of 
us  fellows  are  half  through,"  explained  Frank. 

"  To  be  sure,  Frank  j  you  know  I  thought  of  that 
before.     But  how  are  we  going  to  stop  him?" 

"That's just  what  I'm  coming  to.  When  the  time 
comes  to  read  the  answers  I'm  going  to  take  up  the 
slates,  just  as  if  mine  was  down  first;  and  then,  if 
Levi's  been  playing  sharp  on  U3,  I'll  expose  him." 

"What  a  brick  you  are!"  exclaimed  Bert,  admir- 
ingly, patting  Frank  on  the  back.  "That's  a  grand 
plan  of  yours,  and  I  do  believe  it's  the  way  God  is 
going  to  answer  ray  prayer." 

"  Answer  your  prayer,  Bert  ?  Why,  what  do  you 
mean  ?"  inquired  Frank. 

"  Why,  you  know,  Frank,  last  night  when  I  was 
saying  my  prayers,  I  told  God  all  about  it,  and  now 
I  believe  he's  going  to  make  it  all  right.  You  just 
see  if  he  doesn't." 

Frank  was  evidently  very  much  struck  with  the 
idea  of  his  being  chosen  by  God  to  answer  Bert's 
prayer.     It  was  quite  a  new  thought,  and  made  a 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


235 


deep  impression  upon  him.  He  was  a  clear  and 
strong,  if  not  very  rapid,  reasoner,  and  his  reasouing 
in  this  case  led  him  to  tlie  conclusion  that  if  God 
thought  tiiat  much  of  hira  he  certainly  ought  to  think 
more  of  God.  He  did  not  talk  about  it  to  any  one, 
but  for  many  days  his  mind  was  occupied  with 
tlioughts  of  this  nature,  and  their  direct  result  was  to 
lead  him  nearer  to  the  kingdom. 

At  the  very  first  opportunity  Frank  put  his  plan 
into  execution.  Arithmetic  day  came  round,  the  class 
gathered  in  its  place,  the  first  sum  was  read  out  to 
them,  and  before  Bert  was  half  through  working  it 
out,  Levi  Cohen  placed  his  slate  softly  upon  the  chair, 
and  leaned  back  in  his  seat  with  a  sly  smile  lurking  in 
the  corners  of  his  mouth.  Frank  glanced  up  from  his 
work,  gave  Bert  a  meaning  look,  and  then  dropped 
his  slate  upon  Cohen's  with  a  loud  bang.  The  othere 
followed  more  slowly,  and  presently  the  time  came  for 
the  answers  to  be  read. 

Before  Cohen  could  leave  his  corner,  Frank  rose  up, 
seized  the  pile  of  slates,  turned  tiiem  over,  and  exam- 
ined the  first  intently,  while  Bert  watched  him  with 
breathless  expectancy,  and  Cohen,  at  first  too  surprised 
to  act,  sprang  forward  to  wrest  it  from  his  hands.  But 
Frank  moved  out  of  his  reach,  and  at  the  same  time, 
with  a  triumphant  smile,  exhibited  the  face  of  the  slate 
to  the  rest  of  the  class,  saying,  in  a  loud  whisper: 

"  Look,  boys,  that's  the  way  he  works  them  out." 

Br.  Johnston  noticed  the  slight  commotion  this  ere- 


11 


28  ■ 

Bit'  ~j 


236 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


ated,  but  he  was  too  far  away  to  see  clearly  what  it 
meant,  so  he  called  out : 

"  Why  does  not  class  six  read  their  answers  ?  " 

Cohen  stood  up,  and  held  up  his  hand. 

"Well,  Cohen,  what  is  it?"  asked  the  doctor. 

"  Please,  sir,  Bowser  has  taken  my  slate,  and  won't 
give  it  to  me,"  answered  Cohen,  in  a  whining  voice. 

"  Bowser,  what's  the  meaning  of  this  ?  What  are 
you  doing  with  Cohen's  slate?  "  demanded  the  doctor, 
frowning  darkly. 

Frank  did  not  look  a  bit  frightened,  but  still  hold- 
ing on  to  the  slate,  which  Cohen  was  making  ineffec- 
tual efforts  to  regain,  replied,  m  respectful  tones : 

"  May  I  hand  you  the  slate  first,  sir?  " 

At  these  words  Cohen  turned  ashy  pale,  and  Dr. 
Johnltton,  realizing  that  there  must  be  something  going 
on  that  required  explanation,  ordered  Frank  to  bring 
all  the  slates  up  to  him. 

With  radiant  face  Frank  proceeded  to  obey,  giving 
Bert  a  triumphant  look  as  he  passed  by  him,  while 
Cohen  shrank  back  into  his  corner,  and  bit  his  nails  as 
though  he  would  df  vour  his  finger  tips.  Taking  up 
Cohen's  slate,  the  doctor  scrutinized  it  carefully.  One 
glance  was  sufficient.  A  deep  flush  spread  over  his 
dark  face,  his  eyes  lighted  up  threateningly,  and  in  his 
sternest  tones  he  called  out : 

"  Cohen,  come  here  ! " 

Amid  the  expectant  hush  of  the  school,  none  but 
class  six  knowing  what  was  the  matter,  Cohen,  looking 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


237 


as  tliough  he  would  give  his  right  hand  to  be  able  to 
sink  through  the  floor,  walked  slowly  up  into  the 
dreadful  presence  of  the  angered  master.  Holding  up 
the  slate  before  him,  Dr.  Johnston  asked : 

"  Is  this  your  slate,  sir  ?  " 

Cohen  gave  it  a  cowering  glance,  and  said,  faintly : 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  How  long  has  this  been  going  on  ?  "  thundered 
the  doctor. 

Cohen  made  no  reply. 

"  Answer  me,  sir,  at  once.  How  long  has  this  beea 
going  on  ?  "  repeated  the  doctor. 

"  I  don't  quite  know,  sir ;  but  not  very  long,"  fal- 
tered out  Cohen. 

With  an  exclamation  of  disgust.  Dr.  Johnston  turned 
from  him,  and  holding  the  slate  up  high  so  that  dll  the 
scliool  might  see  it,  relieved  the  curiosity  of  the  schol- 
ars, now  at  fever  pitch,  by  addressing  them  thus : 

"  Cohen  has  just  been  detected  in  one  of  the  most 
contemptible  tricks  that  has  come  under  my  observa- 
tion since  I  have  been  master  of  this  school.  He  has 
evidently  been  committing  to  memory  the  answers  to 
the  problems  that  would  be  given  out,  and  instead  of 
doing  the  work  properly  has  been  scratching  down  a 
few  figures,  then  writing  the  answers,  and  so  finishing 
long  before  any  of  the  other  scholars.  I  need  hardly 
say  that  this  is  not  only  a  most  contemptible  trick,  as  I 
iiave  already  said,  but  a  serious  blow  at  the  principles 
of  fair  p'ay  and  justice  which   should   regulate  the 


r 


ii 


•1 


s 


lif 


i 

i 


iiiiii.'i 


II!iH|ii':ii'lii,li,ll':.'ii 


ilnl 


lilliiiiilili'i 


lliiiil: 


238 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


winning  of  prizes  in  this  school.  I  therefore  feel 
bound  to  express  ray  indignation  at  Cohen's  offense 
in  the  most  decided  manner." 

Turning  to  Cohen :  "  You,  sir,  shall  stand  upon  the 
floor  for  punishment.  All  the  points  scored  by  you 
already  this  term  will  be  taken  from  you,  and  you  will 
not  be  permitted  to  compete  for  any  prize  until  I  shall 
so  determine." 

A  kind  of  subdued  whistle  rose  from  the  boys  when 
they  heard  the  doctor's  severe,  and  yet  not  too  severe, 
sentence.  Cohen  was  no  favorite  with  them ;  and  vet 
they  could  not  help  some  pity  for  him,  as  thorouglily 
cowed  and  crushed  he  stood  before  them  all,  the  very 
picture  of  misery.  Bert's  tender  heart  was  so  touclied 
by  his  abject  appearance,  that  he  half-relented  at  his 
exposure.  But  Frank  was  troubled  by  no  such  second 
thoughts.  The  unexpectedly  complete  success  of  his 
scheme  filled  him  with  delight.  It  had  accomplished 
two  objects,  both  of  which  gave  him  keen  pleasure. 
Bert's  most  dangerous  rival  for  the  prize  had  been  i)ut 
out  of  the  way,  and  Cohen,  whom  he  cordially  dis- 
liked, had  been  well  punished  for  his  knavery. 

With  Cohen  disqualified,  Bert  had  a  comparatively 
easy  time  of  it  for  the  rest  of  the  term.  He  usually 
managed  to  secure  four  out  of  the  fiv^e  points  obtain- 
able, and  steadily  added  to  his  score  until  at  last  there 
was  no  chance  of  any  one  beating  him,  and  he  could 
look  forward  with  comfortable  confidence  to  the  prize 
that  meant  so  much  in  his  case.     A  few  days  before 


BERT   IX0YD8   BOYHOOD. 


239 


Cliiistmas  the  results  were  declared,  and  the  prizes 
iiwarded,  and  although  Bert  gained  only  the  one  upon 
wliich  his  heart  had  been  set,  while  other  boys  carried 
oil'  two,  and  even  three,  he  envied  none  of  them.  Their 
prizes  meant  nothing  more  perhaps  than  the  brightly- 
bound  books  which  the  doctor  selected  with  special 
reference  to  boyish  preferences.  But  hw  prize  meant 
more  than  a  book.  It  meant  a  pony.  And  so  if  he 
was  the  happiest  boy  in  all  the  land  of  Acadia  it  was 
not  without  good  reason.  Frank  was  hardly  less  jubi- 
lant, for  he  had  gained  his  prize,  and  there  was  a  hope 
taking  strong  hold  upon  his  heart  that  if  fortune  was 
kind  to  him,  there  might  be  a  pony  for  him  as  well  as 
for  Bert. 


ww^ 


\r 


In 


If 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


A  CHAPTER  ON  PONIES. 


iiiiii 


illillllllilllllplii' 


BlTifllii!!  Iilliili 


IT  was  a  proud  day  for  Bert  when  he  came  home  from 
school,  bearing  a  handsome  volume  of  Captain 
Gordon  Cumming's  Adventures  in  Africa,  and  he  felt 
as  though  he  could  scarcely  wait  for  his  father's  return 
from  the  office,  so  eager  was  he  to  show  him  his  prize. 
As  it  was,  he  watched  impatiently  for  him,  and  so 
soon  as  he  came  in  sight  rushed  toward  him,  holding 
tiie  book  above  his  head,  and  shouting : 

"  I've  won  it.     I've  won  the  prize." 

The  Lloyds  were  all  quite  as  proud  as  Bert  himself 
over  his  success,  and  they  made  a  very  merry  quar- 
tette as  they  sat  around  the  dinner  table  that  evening. 

"  Dear  me  !  I  suppose  I'll  have  to  keep  my  prom- 
ise now,  though  it  takes  my  last  cent  to  pay  for  it," 
said  Mr.  Lloyd  with  a  pretense  of  looking  rueful. 

"  Indeed  you  will,  father.  I'm  not  going  to  let  you 
off,  of  that  you  may  be  sure,"  exclaimed  Bert,  glee- 
fully, knowing  very  well  that  bi^  ^iflicr  was  only  in 
fun,  and  that  it  would  ti'  '  .e  cost  of  a  good  many 
ponies  to  reach  his  last 

"  Well,  then,  sir,  sine  )U  insist  upon  it,  may  I  ven- 
ture to  inquire  what  sort  ol  a  p  »ny  you  would  like." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,  father." 

240  I 


BERT   LI.OYD'8    BOYHOOD. 


241 


home  from 
of  Captain 
and  he  felt 
lier's  return 
na  his  prize, 
lim,  and  so 
im,  holding 


may  I  veu- 
ild  like." 


''I  suppose  you're  not  very  particular,  Bert,  so  long 
aa  iie'll  let  you  stay  on  his  back,"  said  Mr.  Lloyd, 
smiling. 

"  That's  about  it,  father,"  assented  Bert. 

"  Be  sure  and  get  a  nice,  quiet  pony  that  won't  run 
away  with  Bert,  or  give  hira  a  nasty  kick  some  time," 
interposed  Mrs.  Lloyd,  with  an  anxious  look,  as  she 
cdutemplated  the  possibility  of  some  accident  happeu- 
iii<;  to  her  darling. 

"  Never  fear,  mother,  I'll  make  sure  of  that,"  an- 
swered Mr.  Lloyd,  with  a  reassuring  smile.  "  And 
for  that  very  reason,"  he  continued,  addressing  him- 
self to  Bert,  "'  I  may  be  some  time  in  finding  one  just 
to  suit.  So  you  must  be  patient,  my  little  man,  and 
l)e  willing  to  wait,  so  that  when  your  pony  does  come, 
he  may  be  a  good  one." 

As  it  turned  out,  Bert  had  to  wait  several  months, 
and  the  chill  winter  had  given  way  to  the  warm  sun- 
shine of  spring,  and  the  boy's  patience  had  almost 
given  way  altogether,  when  at  last  his  father,  on  com- 
ing home  one  evening,  announced,  to  his  immense  joy, 
that  after  much  searching  he  had  secured  a  pony  that 
thoroughly  suited  him,  and  that  this  equine  treasure 
would  be  brought  to  the  house  the  next  morning  early. 

If  Bert  was  too  much  excited  to  sleep  for  more  than 
lialf  an  hour  at  a  time  that  night,  who  cannot  sympa- 
thize with  him  ?  And  if,  when  he  did  fall  into  a 
troubled  do/c,  he  had  nightmare,  visions  which  soon 
woke  him  up  again,  who  would  dare  laugh  at  him? 

Q 


242 


BERT  Lloyd's  poyhood. 


In  all  his  young  life  he  had  never  been  in  such  a 
fever  of  expectation,  and  long  before  dawn  he  was 
wide  awake,  with  no  hope  of  again  closing  his  eyes, 
and  tossed  and  tumbled  about  until  it  was  light 
enough  to  get  up  and  dress  himself. 

As  soon  as  he  had  dressed  he  went  down  to  the 
barn  to  assure  himself  for  the  twentieth  time  that  the 
little  stall  was  in  perfect  readiness;  that  there  was  no 
lack  of  oats  in  the  bin  or  hay  in  the  loft;  that  the 
brand-new  halter  was  hanging  in  its  place,  waiting  to 
be  clasped  upon  the  head  of  the  coming  pony,  and 
thus  lie  managed  to  w-hile  awav  the  time  until  the 
breakfast  bell  rang. 

The  pony  was  to  arrive  shortly  after  breakfast,  and, 
hungry  as  he  was,  Bert  could  scarcely  be  persuaded 
to  taste  his  porridge,  toast,  or  coiFee,  and  he  made 
the  others  laugh  by  jumping  up  to  run  to  the  door  at 
the  slightest  suspicion  of  a  sound  in  the  street.  At 
length,  just  when  he  had  settled  down  again  after  one 
of  these  excursions,  the  door  bell  rang  vigorously. 
Bert  rushed  through  the  hall,  opened  the  door,  and 
immediately  there  was  a  glad  shout  of  "Hurrah! 
Here  he  is!  Isn't  he  a  leautv?"  which  broujjht  the 
whole  familv  to  the  door,  and  there  tliev  beheld  the 
overioved  bov  with  his  arms  clasped  tiirhtlv  round 
the  neck  of  a  brown  pony  that  seemed  to  quite  appre- 
ciate this  little  demonstration,  while  the  groom  looked 
on  with  a  superior  smile  at  Bert's  enthusiasm. 

The  pony  was  indeed  a  beauty.     He  was  of  a  rich 


in  such  a 
,vu  lie  was 
y  iiib  eyes, 

was  light 

3wn  to  the 
me  that  the 
lere  was  no 
t ;  that  the 
,  waiting  to 
r  pony,  unci 
le  until  the 

jakfast,  and, 
e  persuatk'd 
id  he  made 

the  door  at 

street.    At 
lin  after  one 

vigorously. 

e  door,  and 
"  Hurrah ! 

brought  tlie 
beheld  the 
itlv    round 

:^uite  a})pro- 

•oom  looked 

ism. 

as  of  a  rich 


Bi'it  Lloytlft  iiuyhood. 


I  Pago  212. 


iiijii 


i 


c: 


BERT  LLOYD'S  BOYHOOD. 


243 


brown  color,  without  a  white  spot  upon  him,  just  high 
enougli  for  Bert  to  see  comfortably  over  his  back,  and 
as  round  and  plump  as  the  best  master  could  wish. 
His  head  was  small  and  perfectly  shaped,  his  neck 
kautifully  arched,  and  he  had  large  brown  eyes  tliat 
looked  out  upon  the  world  with  an  intelligence  almost 
human.  He  had  tiie  highest  testimonials  as  to  sound- 
ness of  wind  and  limb,  and  sweetness  of  temper,  and 
was  altogether  just  the  very  kind  of  a  pony  to  make 
a  boy  happy. 

And  yet  ail  of  his  good  points  have  not  been  re- 
counted. He  had  a  list  of  accomplishments  quite  as 
long  as  his  list  of  virtues,  for  at  some  previous  stage 
of  his  life  he  had,  on  account  of  his  beauty  and  great 
docility,  been  put  in  training  for  the  circus;  and 
although  for  some  reason  or  other  he  had  never  gotten 
so  fur  as  to  make  his  appearance  in  the  saw-dust 
arena,  he  had  been  taught  a  great  many  tricks,  and 
these  he  was  generally  willing  to  perform,  provided 
an  ap[)le  or  lump  of  sugar  were  held  out  as  a  reward. 

All  this  the  gror  •  explained  while  they  were 
standing  at  the  door,  and  then  the  pony,  having  been 
sufficiently  introduced,  was  led  around  to  the  yard, 
and  duly  installed  in  his  corner  of  the  stable,  Bert 
clinging  as  close  to  him  as  if  he  feared  he  had  wings 
like  the  fabled  Pegasus,  and  might  fly  away  if  not 
carefully  watched. 

The  days  that  followed  were  days  of  unalloyed 
happiness  to  Bert.     He,  of  course,  had  to  learn  to 


wmw- 


5 


lihi: 


r  ■ 


lllHII 


244 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


ride  "  Brownie,"  as  tiie  pony  was  christened  by  Mary, 
to  whom  was  referred  the  question  of  a  name.  But 
it  was  an  easy  matter  learning  to  ride  so  gentle  and 
graceful  a  creature.  First  at  a  walk,  then  at  a  trot, 
then  at  a  canter,  and  finally  at  full  gallop,  Bert  ere 
long  made  the  circuit  of  the  neighboring  squares ;  and 
as  he  became  more  thoroughly  at  home  he  extended 
his  rides  to  the  Point,  vdiere  there  were  long  stretches 
of  tree-shaded  road  that  seined  just  intended  for 
b Jng  ridden  over. 

The  best  of  it  was  that,  as  Bert  prophesied,  the  wish 
being  in  his  case  fatiier  to  the  thought,  Mr.  Bowser 
did  follow  Mr.  Lloyd's  example. 

"  I  reckon  I  can  stand  a  pony  for  my  boy  about  as 
well  as  Lawyer  Lloyd  can  for  his,"  said  lie  to  himself, 
pressing  his  hand  upon  a  fat  wallet  in  his  pocket,  yfter 
Frank  had  been  earnestly  petitioning  him,  without 
eliciting  any  favorable  response.  "  There's  no  ])oiiit 
in  Frank's  going  on  foot  while  Bert's  on  horseback. 
I  must  see  about  it." 

He  gave  poor  disappointed  Frank,  however,  no  hint 
of  what  he  had  iji  mind ;  and  then  one  day  he  made 
him  fairly  wild  with  delight,  by  sending  home  a 
pretty  bay  pony  with  a  star  in  his  forehead,  which, 
although  he  was  not  quite  as  handsome  or  accom- 
plished as  "Brownie,"  was  an  excellent  little  animal, 
nevertheless.  Oh,  what  proud  happy  boys  the  two 
friends  were,  the  first  day  they  rode  out  together !  It 
was  a  lovely  afternoon,  not  too  warm  to  make  it  hard 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


245 


upon  the  ponies,  and  they  rode  right  around  the  point, 
ami  along  the  road  sUirdug  the  arm  of  the  sea,  going 
much  farther  than  Bert  had  ever  been  before;  now 
pattering  along  the  smooth  dry  road  at  a  rattling 
pace,  and  now  jogging  on  quietly  with  the  reins 
hanging  loosely  on  the  ponies'  necks.  If  Bert's 
pony  knew  the  more  tricks,  Frank's  showed  the  greater 
speed,  so  they  both  had  something  to  be  especially 
proud  of,  and  were  content  accordingly. 

Brownie's  performances  were  very  amusing  indeed, 
and  after  he  and  his  voung  master  had  become  thor- 
ouglily  acquainted,  he  would  go  through  them  when- 
ever called  upon  to  do  so.  Often  when  the  Lloyds 
had  guests,  they  would  entertain  them  by  having  Bert 
put  Brownie  through  his  programme.  Then  the  cute 
little  fellow  would  be  at  his  best,  for  he  evidently  en- 
joyed an  appreciative  audience  quite  as  much  as  they 
did  his  feats.  He  would  begin  by  making  a  very  re- 
spectful bow  to  the  spectators,  lifting  his  pretty  head 
as  hi<>;h  as  he  could  and  brin<2:ino^  it  down  until  his 
nose  touched  his  breast.  He  would  then,  as  com- 
manded, **say  his  prayers,"  which  he  did  by  kneeling 
with  his  fore  feet,  and  dropping  his  head  upon  his 
knees;  "knock  at  the  door,"  which  meant  going  up 
to  the  nearest  door,  and  knocking  at  it  with  his  hoof 
until  some  one  opened  it ;  "  walk  like  a  gentleman  " — 
that  is,  rear  up  on  his  hind  legs,  and  walk  up  and 
down  the  yard;  "go  to  sleep,"  by  lying  down  and  shut- 
ting his  big  brown  eyes  tight ;  shake  hands  by  grace- 


r 


m  '< 

llillr 


nil 


W^^ 


246 


BERT  LIX)YD's   BOYHOOD. 


fully  extending  his  right  hoof;  allow  a  cap  to  be 
placed  on  his  iiead  and  then  sidle  up  and  down  tlie 
yard  in  the  most  roguish  way;  and  otiier  little  tricks 
no  less  amusing,  which  never  failed  to  elicit  rounds  of 
ap})lause  from  the  deligiited  spectators. 

rherv^  were  nianv  wavs  in  which  Brownie  endeared 
liimself  to  everv  member  of  the  Llovd  familv.  If 
Mrs.  Lloyd  or  Mary  happened  to  come  into  the  yard 
when,  as  often  happened,  he  was  roaming  about  loose, 
he  would  go  up  to  them  and  rub  his  nose  gently 
against  their  slioulder,  thus  saying  as  plainly  as  could 
be,  "  Haven't  you  got  a  crust  for  me  ?  "  and  the  mo- 
ment Mr.  Llovd  showed  himself,  Brownie's  nose 
would  be  snuffing  at  his  coat  pockets  for  the  bit  of 
apple  or  lump  of  sugar  that  rarely  failed  to  be  there. 
As  for  his  bearing  toward  Bert,  it  showed  such  affec- 
tion, obedience,  and  intelligence  that  it  is  not  to  be 
wondered  at  if  the  boy  sometimes  asked  himself  if  the 
"Houvhnhnms"  of  Gulliver's  Travels  had  not  their 
counterpart  in  nature,  after  all. 

Great,  then,  was  the  concern  and  sorrow  when,  after 
he  had  been  just  a  year  with  them,  Brownie  fell  sick, 
and  the  veteriuarv  suro-eon  said  that  he  must  be  sent 
away  to  the  country  to  see  if  that  would  make  liiru 
well  again.  Bert  sobbed  bitterly  when  the  little  in- 
valid was  led  away.  He  would  have  dearly  loved 
to  accompany  Brownie,  but  that  could  not  be  managed, 
so  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  wait  patiently  at 
home  for  the  news  from  the  sick  pony. 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


247 


Uii happily,  the  reports  were  not  cheering.  Each 
time  they  were  less  hopeful,  aud  at  last  oue  dull  rainy 
clay  that  Bert  was  long  in  forgetting, 'the  farmer  came 
himself  to  say  that  despite  his  utmost  care  dear  little 
Ijrowuie  had  died,  and  was  now  buried  beneath  a 
Nvillow  tree  in  a  corner  of  the  pasture.  Poor  Bert  I 
Tills  was  the  first  great  grief  of  his  life.  Had 
Brownie  been  a  human  companion,  he  cculd  hardly 
have  felt  his  loss  more  keenly  or  sorrowed  more  sin- 
cerely. The  little  empty  stall,  the  brass-mounted 
hriille,  and  steel-stirruped  saddle  hanging  up  beside 
it,  brought  out  his  tears  afresh  every  time  he  looked 
upon  them.  Frank  did  his  best  to  console  him  by 
offering  him  the  use  of  his  pony  whenever  he  liked  ; 
but,  ah  !  thougii  "  Charlie"  was  a  nice  enough  pony, 
he  could  not  fill  the  blank  made  bv  Brownie's  loss. 

In  the  mean  time  Mr.  Lloyd  had  been  making  dili- 
gent inquiry  about  a  successor  to  Brownie,  and  had 
come  to  the  conclusion  to  await  the  annual  siiipmcnt 
from  Sable  Island,  and  see  if  a  suitable  pony  could 
not  be  picked  out  from  the  number.  The  announce- 
ment of  this  did  much  to  arouse  Bert  from  his  low 
spirits,  and  as  Mr.  Lloyd  told  him  about  those  Sable 
Island  ponies  he  grew  more  and  more  interested. 
They  certainly  have  a  curious  history.  To  begin 
with,  nobody  knows  just  how  they  got  on  that  strange, 
wild,  desolate,  sand  bank  that  rises  from  the  ocean 
about  a  hundred  miles  to  the  east  of  Nova  Scotia. 
Had  they  the  power  of  speech,  and  were  they  asked 


248 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


to  give  an  account  of  themselves,  they  would  proba- 
bly reply  with  Topsy  that  "  they  didn't  know — tliey 
'spects  they  grovv'd."  There  they  are,  however,  to  the 
number  of  several  hundred,  and  there  they  have  been 
ever  since  anybody  knew  anything  about  Sable  Island. 
And  suoli  a  place  for  ponies  to  be !  It  is  nothing  bnt 
a  bank  of  sand,  not  twenty-five  miles  long,  by  abont 
one  and  a  half  wide,  covered  here  and  tliere  with 
patches  of  dense  coarse  grass,  wild  pea  vine,  and  cran- 
berry swamps.  There  are  no  trees,  no  brooks,  no 
daisied  meadows,  and  throug-h  all  seasons  of  the  voar 
the  ponies  are  out  exposed  to  the  weather,  whether  it 
be  the  furious  snow  storms  of  winter,  the  burning 
heat  of  summer,  or  the  mad  gales  of  the  autumn. 

Once  a  year  the  government  officials  who  live  upon 
the  island,  having  charge  of  the  lighthouses  and 
relief  stations,  for  it  is  a  terrible  place  for  wrecks, 
have  what  the  Western  ranchmen  would  call  a  "round- 
up" of  the  ponies.  They  are  all  driven  into  a  big 
"  corral  "  at  one  end  of  the  island,  and  the  best  of  the 
vounoer  ones  carefullv  culled  out,  the  rest  beiu";  set 
free  again.  Those  selected  are  then  at  the  first  oppor- 
tunity put  on  board  a  ship  and  carried  off  to  Halifax, 
where  rough,  shaggy,  ungrooraed,  and  untamed,  they 
are  sold  at  auction  to  the  highest  bidders. 

It  was  one  of  these  ponies  that  Mr.  Lloyd  proposed 
to  purchase  for  Bert.  The  latter  was  an  expert  rider 
now,  and  could  be  entrusted  with  a  much  more 
spirited  animal  than  dear  little  Brownie.    The  arrival 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


249 


of  the  annual  shipment  was  accordingly  looked  forward 
to  by  both  Bert  and  his  father  with  a  good  deal  of 
interest,  Bert  wondering  if  on  the  whole  shipload 
there  would  be  anytiiing  to  compare  with  Brownie, 
aiul  Mr.  Lloyd  hoping  that  he  would  be  able  to  obtain 
a  pony  big  enough  to  carry  him  if  he  felt  in  the 
humor  for  a  ride  on  a  bright  summer  morning. 


':f    "1 


CHAPTER  XXV. 


ABOUT  TWO   KINDS  OP  PONIES. 


IN  due  time  the  Sable  Island  ponies  arrived,  and 
were  announced  to  be  sold  by  auction,  at  the 
Government  Wharf.  Taking  Bert  with  him,  Mr. 
Lloyd  went  down  in  time  to  have  a  good  look  at  the 
shipment  before  the  sale  commenced,  so  that  he  might 
have  his  mind  made  up  before  beginning  to  bid.  Thoy 
certainly  were  a  queer  lot  of  little  creatures.  Not  a 
cuny-comb  had  touched  their  hides  since  they  were 
born,  nor  had  the  shears  ever  been  near  their  maiics 
or  tails.  Their  coats  were  long,  thick,  and  filled 
with  dirt ;  their  manes  and  tails  of  prodigious  length, 
and  matted  together  in  inextricable  knots.  They  were 
of  all  colors,  and  within  cei'tain  limits  of  all  sizes. 
Brown,  bay,  black,  piebald,  gray,  and  sorrel.  There 
was  no  lack  of  variety ;  and  Mr.  Lloyd  and  Bert 
wandered  up  and  down  the  long  line  as  they  stoed 
tethered  to  the  wall,  scrutinizing  them  closely,  and 
sorely  puzzled  as  to  which  to  decide  upon. 

It  was,  of  course,  quite  impossible  to  tell  anything 
as  to  disposition,  for  all  the  ponies  seemed  equally 
wild  and  terrified  at  their  novel  situation  ;  but,  after 
going  over  them  carefully,  Mr.  Lloyd  decided  upon  a 
very  promising-looking  black  pony  that  stood  near 
250  . 


BERT   LLOYD  S    BOYHOOD. 


251 


the  middle  of  the  row.  He  was  of  a  good  size, 
seemed  to  be  in  better  condition,  than  many  of  those 
around  him,  had  a  well-shaped  head,  and  alto<i;ether 
prcsenteil  about  as  attractive  an  appearance  as  any  in 
the  lot. 

There  were  numerous  bidders  at  the  auction,  and 
Bert  grew  deeply  interested  in  the  selling,  as  pony 
after  pony  was  put  up,  and  after  a  more  or  less  spirited 
contest,  according  to  his  looks,  was  knocked  down  to  the 
I)erson  that  bid  the  highest  for  him.  By  the  time  the 
pony  his  father  had  selected  was  reached,  he  was  fairly 
trembling  with  excitement.  He  was  full  of  appre- 
hension, lest  somebody  else  should  take  him  away 
from  them,  and  when  the  bidding  began,  he  watched 
every  movement  and  word  of  the  auctioneer  with 
breathless  anxiety,  raising  quite  a  laugh  at  one  time, 
by  answering  his  oft-repeated  question  "Will  any- 
body give  me  five?  I  have  thirty — will  anybody 
give  me  live  ? "  with  an  eager  "  I  will ! "  that  was 
easily  heard  by  everybody  in  the  crowd.  It  was  an 
immense  relief  to  him,  when,  at  length,  after  what 
seemed  to  him  most  unnecessary  persistence  in  trying 
to  get  more,  the  auctioneer  called  out  "  Going,  going, 
going,  at  thirty-five  dollars.  Will  you  give  me  any 
more?  Going  at  thirty-five — going,  going,  gone; 
and  sold  to  Mr.  Llovd.^^ 

Thirty-five  dollars  does  not  seem  very  much  to  give 
for  a  pony ;  but  considering  that  this  pony  had  every- 
thing to  learn,  and   nobody  to  guarantee  his  good 


W'i: 


262 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


behavior,  it  was  a  fair  enouj?h  price  for  him.  The 
getting  him  home  proved  to  be  quite  a  serious  under- 
taking. The  strange  sights  and  sounds  of  tlie  city 
streets  did  not  merely  frigliten  him — they  positively 
crazed  liim  for  the  time ;  and  it  took  two  strong  men, 
one  on  either  side  of  his  head,  to  guide  him  in  safety 
to  the  stable.  Once  securely  fastened  in  the  stall,  lie 
quieted  down  in  time,  but  not  one  bite  of  food  would 
he  touch  that  day,  nor  the  next,  although  liert  tried  to 
tempt  him  with  everything  of  which  Brownie  had 
been  fond.  This  troubled  Bert  very  much,  lie 
began  to  fear  his  new  pony  would  starve  to  death. 
But  his  father  resissured  him. 

"  Don't  be  alarmed,  my  boy.  The  pony  will  find 
his  appetite  all  right  so  soon  as  he  gets  used  to  his 
new  quarters,"  said  Mr.  Lloyd. 

And  sure  enough  on  the  third  morning,  Bert,  to  his 
great  relief,  found  the  oat  box  licked  clean,  and  the 
pony  looking  round  wistfully  for  something  more  to 
eat.  After  that,  the  difficulty  lay  rather  in  satisfying 
than  in  tempting  his  appetite.  He  proved  an  insa- 
tiable eater.  But  then  nobody  thought  of  stinting 
him,  especially  as  his  bones  were  none  too  well 
covered. 

It  was  with  great  difficulty  that  he  could  be  per- 
suaded to  allow  himself  to  be  groomed.  He  would 
start  at  the  touch  of  the  curry-comb,  as  though  it 
gave  him  an  electric  shock,  and  Michael,  who  com- 
bined in  himself  the  offices  of  groom  and  gardener. 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


253 


(Icdiirod  tliat  "of  all  the  pesky,  fidj^oty  critters  that 
ever  stood  on  four  Iv^a,  he  never  did  see  the  like  of 
this  'ere  Sable  Islander."  Michael's  opinion  was  not 
improved  when  he  came  to  break  the  little  Sable 
Islander  in,  for  he  led  liim  such  a  dance  day  after 
(lay  that  his  stout  heart  was  well-nigh  broken  l)efore 
ilie  pony's  will  showed  any  signs  of  being  broken. 
However,  patience  and  kindness,  con)l)lned  with  firm- 
ness, evxMitually  won  the  day ;  and  Michael,  with 
considerable  pride  announced  that  "  Sable,"  as  it  had 
boon  decided  to  call  him,  was  ready  for  use. 

Mr.  Lloyd  thought  it  best  to  ride  Sable  for  a  week 
or  two  before  Bert  should  mount  him,  and  to  this 
arrangement  Bert  was  nothing  loath,  for  the  pony's 
actions  while  in  process  of  being  broken  in  had  ratiier 
subdued  his  eagerness  to  trust  himself  upon  him.  As 
it  chanced,  Mr.  Lloyd  came  very  near  paying  a  severe 
penalty  for  his  thoughtfulness.  He  had  been  out  sev- 
eral mornings  on  Sable,  and  had  gotten  along  very  well. 
One  morning  while  he  was  in  the  act  of  mounting, 
the  gate  suddenly  slammed  behind  him  with  a  loud 
l)nng.  The  pony  at  once  started  off  at  full  gallop. 
Mr.  Lloyd  succeeded  in  throwing  himself  into  the 
saddle,  but  could  not  get  his  feet  into  the  stirrups, 
and  when  the  frightened  creature  upon  which  he  had 
so  insecure  a  hold  swerved  sharply  round  at  the  end 
of  the  street,  he  was  hurled  from  his  seat  like  a  stone 
from  a  eatapidt,  and  fell  headlong,  striking  his  right 
temple  upon  the  hard  ground. 


'i 


'a 


254 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


A  few  minutes  later  Mrs.  Lloyd  was  startled  bv  a 
hasty  rap  at  the  door,  and  on  opening  it  beheld  her 
husband  supported  between  two  men,  liis  ^ace  gha.^rly 
pale,  and  stained  with  blood  from  a  wound  on  liis 
forehead.  She  was  a  brave  woman,  and  although  her 
heart  almost  stood  still  with  agonized  a})prehen.'^i()ii, 
she  did  not  lose  control  of  herself  for  an  in.<taiit. 
Directing  Mr.  Lloyd  to  be  carried  into  the  parlor  and 
laid  gently  upon  the  sofa,  Mrs.  Lloyd  bathed  his  head 
and  face  while  Mary  chafed  his  hands  ;  and  presently, 
to  their  unspeakable  joy,  lie  recovered  consciousness. 
Fortunately,  his  injuries  proved  to  be  comparatively 
sliirht.  Beyond  a  cut  on  his  forehead,  a  bad 
headache,  and  a  general  shaking  up,  he  had  suffered 
no  material  injury,  and  lie  would  not  listen  to  Mrs. 
Lloyd's  finding  any  fault  with  Sable  for  the  accident. 

"Tut!  tut!  Kate,"  said  he;  "the  pony  was  not 
to  blame  at  all.  Any  horse  might  have  been  fright- 
ened by  a  gate  banging  to  at  his  heels.  The  fault 
was  mine  in  not  seeing  that  the  gate  was  shut  before  I 
mounted.  No;  no,  you  must  not  blame  poor  little 
Sable." 

Curiously  enough,  Bert  had  a  somewhat  similar  ex- 
perience shortly  after  he  began  to  ride  Sable.  At  a 
little  distance  from  the  house  was  a  hill  r.p  A\hie]i  tlic 
street  led,  and  then  down  the  other  side  out  into  the 
country.  The  ascent  was  prcity  steep,  the  descent  n<>t 
so  much  so,  and  Bert  liked  to  walk  his  pony  up  to 
the  top,  and  then  canter  down  the  other  side.     One 


BERT   LLOYDS    BOYHOOD. 


255 


afternoon,  just  as  he  readied  the  siinimit,  a  little  imp 
of  a  street  gamin,  probably  by  way  of  expressing  the 
eiivv  he  felt  for  those  who  could  afford  to  ride,  threvv 
a  stone  at  Sable,  which  struck  him  a  stinging  blow  on 
the  hindquarters.  Like  an  arrow  from  the  bow,  the 
pony  was  otf.  Taking  the  bit  in  his  teeth,  and 
straightening  his  head  out,  he  went  at  full  speed  down 
the  hill,  Bert  holding  on  for  dear  life  with  his  heart 
in  his  mouth,  and  his  hat  from  his  head. 

In  some  way  or  other,  he  himself  never  knew 
exactly  how,  he  got  both  liis  feet  out  of  the  stirrups, 
and  it  was  well  for  him  he  did,  f)r  just  at  \\\^  l>ottom 
(if  the  hill,  when  he  M'as  going  like  a  greyliound. 
Sable  stopped  short,  lowered  his  head,  flung  up  his 
heels,  and,  without  the  slightest  protest  or  delay,  I^rt 
went  flvincr  from  the  saddle,  and  landed  in  the  michlle 
of  the  dusty  road  in  a  sitting  posture  with  his  legs 
stretched  out  before  him.  The  saucy  pony  paused 
just  long  enough  to  make  sure  that  his  rider  was  dis- 
posed of  beyond  a  doubt,  and  then  galloped  away, 
apparently  in  high  glee. 

Bert  was  not  hurt  in  the  least.  He  had  never  sat 
down  quite  so  unexpectedly  before,  but  the  thick  dust 
of  the  road  made  an  excellent  cushion,  and  lu;  was 
soon  upon  his  feet,  and  in  full  cry  after  the  runaway. 
Thanks  to  a  gentleman  on  horseback  who  had  wit- 
nessed the  whole  scene,  and  went  immcdiatclv  in 
chase  of  Sable,  the  latter  was  soon  recaptured,  and 
Bert,  having  thanked  his  friend  in  need,  and  brushed 


256 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


some  of  the  dust  from  his  clothes,  remounted  liis  mis- 
chievous steed,  and  rode  him  for  tlxe  rest  of  the  after- 
noon. 

After  those  two  somewhat  unpromising  perfor- 
mances, Sable  settled  down  into  very  good  habits,  and 
during  all  the  rest  of  llie  time  that  he  was  in  Bert's 
possession  did  not  again  disgrace  himself  bv  ru?  .ig 
away  or  pitching  any  one  off  his  back.  lie  never 
became  the  pet  that  Brownie  had  been,  but  he  was, 
upon  the  whole,  a  more  useful  animal,  so  that  Bert 
came  to  feel  himself  well  compensated  for  his  loss. 

About  this  time  Bert  made  the  acquaintance  of  a 
pony  of  a  very  different  sort.  How,  indeed,  it  cani  •  lit 
have  this  name  does  not  seem  to  be  very  clear,  lui 
what  natural  connection  can  be  established  between  a 
diminutive  horse,  and  a  discreditable  method  of  re- 
ducing the  difficulties  of  a  lesson  in  Latin  or  Greek? 
It  would  appear  to  be  a  very  unjust  slur  upon  a  very 
worth v  little  animal,  to  sav  the  least. 

Bert's  first  knowledge  of  the  other  kind  of  p)ny 
was  when  in  the  course  of  his  study  of  Latin  he  came 
to  read  Sallust.  Caesar  he  had  found  comparatively 
easy,  and  widi  no  other  aid  than  the  grammar  and 
lexicon  he  could,  in  the  course  of  an  hour  or  so,  get 
out  a  fair  translation  of  the  passage  to  be  mastered. 
But  Sallust  iTJive  him  no  end  of  trouble.  There  was 
somethimi:  in  the  involved  obscure  stvle  of  this  old 
historian  that  puzzled  him  greatly,  and  he  was  con- 
Btantlv  being  humiliated  bv  finding  that  when,  after 


BFRT   LLOYDS    BOYHOOD. 


257 


niiicli  labor,  he  had  succeeded  in  making  some  sort  of 
seii""e  out  of  a  sentence,  Dr.  Johnston  wouhl  pronounce 
his  translatioji  altogetiier  wrong,  and  proceed  to  read 
it  ill  quite  another  way. 

As  it  happened,  just  when  Bert  was  in  the  middle  of 
those  difficulties,  Mr.  Llovd  was  called  awav  from 
home  on  important  business  which  entailed  an  absence 
lor  many  weeks,  and  consequently  Bert  was  deprived 
of  his  assistance,  whicli  was  always  so  willingly 
given. 

He  lia<l  been  struggling  with  Sallust  for  some  time, 
and  was  miikino:  but  verv  unsatisfactory  headwav,  when 
one  (lay,  chancing  to  express  to  Regie  Sel  wyn  his  envy 
of  the  seeming  ease  with  which  the  latter  got  along, 
Regie  looked  at  him  with  a  knowing  smile,  and  asked  : 

''  Don't  vou  know  how  I  get  niv  translation  so 
pat?" 

"No,"  replied  Bert;  "tell  me,  won't  you?" 

"Why,  I   use  a  pony,  of  course,"  responded  Regie. 

"A  pony!"  exclaimed  Bert,  in  a  tone  of  surprise. 
"  What  do  you  mean?" 

''Oh,  come  now,"  said  Regie,  with  an  incredulous 
smile.  "Do  vou  mean  to  sav  that  vou  don't  know 
wli.it  a  pony  is?" 

"I  do,  really,"  returned  Bert.  "Please  tell  me, 
like  a  good  fellow." 

'•  Come  along  home  witii  me  after  school,  and  I'll 
oiiow  you,"  said  Regie. 

"All  right,"  assented  Bert;  "I  will." 

R 


258 


BERT   LLOYD'S   BOYHOOD.  ' 


Accordingly,  that  afternoon  when  school  had  ])(cn 
dismissed,  Bert  accompanied  Regie  home,  and  tin'i-o 
the  latter  took  him  to  his  room,  and  produced  a  book 
which  contained  the  whole  of  Sullust  turned  into  clcai- 
simple  English. 

"There,"  said  he,  placing  the  volume  in  Bert's 
hands;  "  that's  what  I  mean  by  a  pony." 

Bert  opened  the  book,  glanced  at  a  page  or  two, 
took  in  the  character  of  its  contents,  and  then,  with  a 
feeling  at,  though  he  had  touched  a  serpent,  laid  it 
down  ai»;ain,  saving: 

"But  do  vou  think  it's  right  to  use  this  book  in 
getting  up  your  Sallust,  Regie?" 

Regie  laughed  and  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Where's  the  harm,  mv  bov.  If  vou  can't  trans- 
late  old  Sallust  by  yourself,  you  can't,  that's  all,  and 
you've  got  to  wait  for  Dr.  Johnston  to  do  it  for 
you.  Now,  mightn't  you  just  as  well  get  it  out  of 
this  book  at  once,  and  save  all  the  trouble,'^  he  argued, 
glibly. 

This  was  very  fallacious  reasoning,  but  somehow  or 
other  it  impressed  Bert  as  having  a  good  deal  of  force 
in  it.  The  simple  truth  was  that  he  was  willing  to  be 
convinced.     But  he  did  not  feel  quite  satisfied  yet. 

"Tiien,  of  course,  you  never  look  at  it  until  you 
have  done  your  best  to  get  the  lesson  out  without  it?'' 
he  asl  J. 

"TTiat  depends.  Sometimes  I  do,  and  sometimes  I 
don't,"  answered  Regie,  iu  a  tone  tliat  implied  very 


BETRT   LLOYD  S    BOYHOOD. 


259 


plainly  that  the  latter  "sometimes"  occurred  much 
iiioie  frequently  than  the  former. 

Jk'rt  took  up  the  book  again  and  fingered  it  thought- 
fully. 

'*  Could  I  get  one  if  I  wanted  to  ?  "  he  asked,  pres- 
ently. 

"  Why,  of  course,"  answered  Regie.  "  There  are 
many  more  at  Gossip's  where  I  got  this,  I  guess." 

Bert  said  no  more;  and  the  two  boys  soon  began 
talkint):  about  soniethini;  else. 

For  some  days  thereafter  Bert  was  in  a  very  per- 
plexed state  of  mind.  It  seemed  as  though  ''the 
stars  in  their  courses"  were  fi^^iitino;  not  ai^ainst,  but 
in  favor  of  his  getting  a  "  po'iy  "  for  himself  His 
father's  absence  was  indefinitely  prolonged,  tiie  Sallust 
grew  more  and  more  difficult,  and  demanded  so  much 
time,  that  Bert's  chance  of  winning  one  of  the  prizes 
for  general  proficiency  was  seriously  jeopardized. 

Instead  of  dismissing  the  subject  from  his  mind 
altogetiier,  he  fell  to  reasoning  about  it,  and  then  his 
danirer  really  began,  for  the  more  he  reasoned,  the 
weaker  his  defenses  grew.  There  seemed  so  much  to 
be  said  in  favor  of  the  pony;  and,  after  all,  if  he  did 
not  resort  to  it  until  he  had  done  his  best  to  work  out 
the  translation  unaided,  what  would  be  the  harm  ? 

Clearly  Bert  was  in  a  perilous  por^ition.  Right  and 
wroiiiT  were  stronixlv  contendinir  for  the  victorv,  and 
much  would  depend  upon  the  wsue  of  the  conflict. 


■ 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 


VICTORY   WOX   FROM   DEFEAT. 


BERT  had  reached  an  age  and  stage  of  develop- 
ment when  the  raising  of  a  decided  issue  between 
right  and  wrong  was  a  matter  of  vital  consequence. 
Although  he  had  little  more  than  rounded  out  a  dozen 
vears  of  life,  his  natural  bent  of  mind  and  the  iiiflii- 
ences  surrounding  him  had  been  such  as  to  make  him 
seem  at  least  two  years  older  when  compared  witli  his 
contemporaries.  He  thought  mucii,  and,  considering 
his  age,  deeply.  His  parents  had  always  admitted  him 
into  full  fellowship  with  themselves,  and  he  had  thus 
acquired  their  way  of  thinking  upon  many  subjects. 
Then  his  religious  training  had  been  more  than  ordi- 
narily thorough.  The  influences  and  inspiration  of  a 
Christian  home  had  been  supplemented  and  strength- 
ened bv  the  .eachinj:  at  Sundav-school  of  one  who 
possessed  a  rar^  ^ift  in  the  management  of  boys.  Mr. 
Silver  not  onlv  understood  his  bovs:  he  was  in  heartv 
and  complete  sympathy  with  them;  and  the  trntii  came 
from  him  with  peculiar  force,  as  he  met  *them  Sunday 
after  Sunday. 

Bert  therefore  would  appear  to  have  everythiuij:  in 
his  favor  when  set  upon  by  the  tempter,  and  it  might 
seem  strange  that  in  this  case  he  should  dally  so  long 
260 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


261 


■\vith  tlie  danger.  But  the  fact  h  there  were  unusual 
eloments  in  tliis  temptation,  such  as  have  been  already 
set  forth,  and  Bert's  course  of  action  from  the  time 
wlien  lie  first  saw  the  translation  of  Sallust  in  Rei^io 
Selwvn's  room,  until  when  at  len<z:th  after  davs  of  in- 
decision,  of  halting  between  two  opinions,  of  now 
listening  to,  and  again  spurning  the  suggestions  of 
the  tempter,  he  had  a  copy  of  the  same  book  hidden 
away  in  his  own  room,  was  but  another  illustration 
of  the  familiar  experience,  that  he  who  stops  to  argue 
with  the  tempter,  has  as  good  as  lost  Ijis  case. 

He  tried  hard  to  persuade  himself  that  it  was  all 
right,  and  that  it  would  be  all  right,  but  nevertheless 
it  was  with  none  too  easy  a  conscience  that  he  slipped 
into  Gossip's  one  afternoon,  and  timidly  inquired  for 
the  Sallust  translation.  The  clerk  did  not  understand 
at  first,  and  when  he  asked  Bert  to  repeat  his  question 
a  cold  siiiver  went  down  the  boy's  back,  for  he  felt 
sure  the  man  must  have  divined  his  purpose  in  pro- 
curing the  book.  But,  of  course,  it  was  only  an  un- 
necessary alarm,  and  soon  with  the  volume  under  his 
arm,  and  breathing  much  more  freely,  he  was  hasten- 
ing homeward. 

At  first  he  kept  very  faithfully  to  the  programme 
he  had  laid  down  of  not  resorting  to  the  "  pony  " 
until  he  had  done  his  best  without  it.  Then  little  by 
little  he  fell  into  the  wav  of  referrino;  to  it  whenever 
lie  was  at  a  loss  reirardinu:  a  word,  until  at  last  he 
came   to  depend  upon  it  altogether,  and  the  fluent 


262 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


translations  that  won  Dr.  Johnston's  approbation  day 
after  day  were  really  nothing  better  than  stolen 
matter. 

Yet  all  this  time  he  was  far  from  having  peti-^e  of 
mind.  That  troublesome  conscience  of  his  acted  as 
though  it  would  never  become  reconciled  to  tliis 
method  of  studvins;  the  classics.  On  the  contrarv,  it 
seemed  to  grow  increasingly  sensitive  upon  the  point. 
Finally  the  matter  was  brought  to  a  head  in  a  very 
unsuspected  manner. 

No  mention  has  been  made  in  these  pages  of  one 
Avho  occupied  a  very  large  place  in  Bert's  affection 
and  admiration — namely,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Chrystal,  the 
pastor  of  Calvary  Church.  Dr.  Chrystal  was  a  man 
of  middle  age  and  medium  height,  with  a  countenance 
so  winning  and  manners  so  attractive,  that  Mr.  Llovd 
was  wont  to  call  him  St.  John,  the  beloved  disciple, 
because  his  name  was  John,  and  evervbodv  who  knew 
him  loved  him.  It  was  not  merelv  bv  the  elders  of  his 
congregation,  who  could  fully  appreciate  the  breadth 
and  soundness  of  his  scholarship,  the  richness  of  his 
rhetoric,  and  the  warmth  of  his  eloquence,  but  by 
the  younger  members  also,  who  loved  his  sunuy  smile, 
and  heartv  laugh,  that  Dr.  Chrvstal  was  little  short  of 
worshiped. 

Bert  had  been  his  warm  admirer  ever  since  the  time 
when  on  his  pastoral  visits  he  would  take  the  little 
fellow  up  on  his  knee,  and  draw  him  out  about 
his  own  amusements  ^nd  ambitious,  giving  such  iu- 


BERT   LLOYD'S    BOYHOOD. 


263 


bation  day 
luiii    stolen 

5  peD-^e  of 
lis  actotl  a.s 
id  to  this 
[jontrary,  it 
the  point, 
in  a  very 

2:e.s  of  one 
's  affection 

iiystal,  tiio 
was  a  man 
;ountenance 

Mr.  Lloyd 
;d  disciple, 

who  knew 
Iders  of  his 
;he  breadth 
;iess  of  his 
ice,  but  bv 
imuv  smile, 
tie  short  of 

nee  the  time 

le  the  little 

out  about 

o-  such  in- 


terested  attention  to  his  childish  prattle  that  Bert 
could  not  fail  to  feel  he  had  in  him  a  real  friend.  A.s 
he  ijrew  older,  his  Hieing  for  the  minister  deepened. 
He  never  had  that  foolish  fear  of  the  cloth  wiiich  is 
so  apt  to  be  found  in  boys  of  liis  age.  Dr.  Chrystal 
was  a  frequent  visitor  at  Bert's  home.  Mr.  Lloyd 
was  one  of  the  main  supporters  of  iiis  church,  and 
the  two  men  had  much  to  consult  about.  Besides 
that,  the  preacher  loved  to  discuss  the  subjects  of  the 
dav  with  the  keen-witted,  far-seeini»;  lawver,  wlio 
helped  him  to  many  a  telling  point  for  the  sermon 
ill  preparation. 

This,  of  course,  was  quite  beyond  Bert,  but  what  he 
could  and  did  fully  appreciate  was  the  skill  and 
strength  with  which  Dr.  Chrystal,  having  laid  aside 
his  clerical  coat,  would  handle  a  pair  of  sculls  when 
he  went  out  boating  with  them,  in  the  fine  summer 
evenings. 

"  I  tell  you  what  it  is,  Frank,"  said  he,  enthusiastic- 
allv  to  his  friend  one  dav.  "There's  nothinoc  soft 
about  our  minister.  He  can  pull  just  as  well  as  any 
man  in.  the  harbor.  That's  the  sort  of  minister  I 
like.     Don't  vou?" 

One  Sundav  evenino:,  after  Bert  had  been  using: 
his  "  pony  "  some  little  time„ — for  although  his  father 
h;id  returned,  he  had  come  so  to  depend  upon  it,  that 
he  continued  to  resort  to  it  in  secret — Dr.  Chrvstal 
])reached  a  sermon  of  more  than  usual  power  from  ihe 
text,  "  Provide  things  honest  in  the  sight  of  all  men.'* 


264 


BERT   ILOYD's    BOYHOOD. 


It  was  a  frank,  faithful  address,  in  whicii  he  soiij^dit 
to  speak  tlie  truth  in  tenderness,  and  yet  with  direct 
application  to  ids  hearers.  If  any  among  tliera  were 
disbelievers  in  the  doctrine  tiiat  honestv  is  the  best 

¥ 

policy,  and  acted  accordingly,  they  could  hardly  hope 
to  dodge  tiie  arrows  of  argument  and  appeal  shot  forth 
from  the  pupit  tliat  evening. 

Bert  was  one  of  the  first  to  l)e  transfixed.  Wiicii 
the  text  was  announced  he  wriggled  a  bit,  as  thoiiu;li 
it  pricked  inm  somewhere;  but  wiien,  farther  on,  Dr. 
Chrystal  spoke  in  plain  terms  of  tiie  dishonesty  of 
false  pretences,  of  claiming  to  be  what  you  really  are 
not,  of  seeking  credit  for  what  is  not  aotnally  your 
own  work,  Bert's  head  sank  lower  and  lower,  iiis 
cheeks  burned  with  shame,  and,  feeling  that  tiie 
speaker  must  in  some  mysterious  way  have  divined 
his  guilty  secret,  and  be  preaching  directly  at  him, 
he  sank  back  in  his  seat,  and  wished  with  wild  long- 
ing that  he  could  run  away  from  those  flashing  eyes 
that  seemed  to  be  looking  right  through  him,  and 
from  the  sound  of  that  clear,  strong  voice,  whose  every 
tone  went  straight  to  his  heart. 

But,  of  course,  there  was  no  escape,  and  he  had  to 
listen  to  the  sermon  to  the  end,  although,  had  it  been 
possible,  he  would  gladly  have  thrust  his  fingers  in  his 
ears  that  he  might  liear  no  more.  He  felt  immensely 
relieved  when  tiie  service  M'as  over,  and  he  could  ixo 
out  into  the  cool,  dark  evening  air.  He  was  very 
silent  as  he  walked   home  with   his  parents,  and  so 


iiiP 


BERT  LLOYD*S    BOYHOOD. 


265 


poon  as  prayers  were  over  went  off  to  his  room,  saying 
that  he  was  tired. 

For  the  next  few  days  tliere  was  not  a  more  miser- 
al)le  hov  in  Halifax  tiian  Cuthbert  Llovd.  lie  was 
;i  prey  to  contending  feelings  that  gave  him  not  one 
moment's  peace.  His  better  natnre  said,  "Be  manly, 
and  confess."  The  tempter  whispered,  "  Be  wise,  and 
keep  it  to  yourself."  As  for  the  cause  of  all  this 
trouble,  it  lay  untouched  in  the  bottom  drawer  of  his 
bureau.  He  could  not  bear  to  look  at  it,  and  he 
worked  out  his  Sallust  as  best  he  could,  causing  Dr. 
Joluiston  much  surprise  by  the  unexpected  mistakes 
he  made  in  translating.  He  became  so  quiet  and 
scber  that  his  mother  grew  quite  concerned,  and  asked 
him  more  than  once  if  lie  felt  ill,  to  which,  with  a 
pretense  of  a  laugh,  he  replied  : 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it.     I'm  all  right." 

But  he  wasn't  all  right,  by  any  means,  as  his  father's 
keen  eyes  soon  discovered.  Mr.  Lloyd,  like  his  wife, 
thought  at  first  that  Bert's  queer  ways  must  be  due  to 
ill  health ;  but  after  watching  him  awhile  he  came 
to  the  conclusion  that  the  boy's  trouble  was  mental, 
rather  than  physical,  and  he  determined  to  take  the 
first  opportunity  of  probing  the  matter.  The  oppor- 
tunitv  soon  came.  Mrs.  Llovd  and  Marv  were  out 
for  the  evening,  leaving  Bert  and  his  father  at  home. 
Bert  was  studying  his  lessons  at  the  table,  while  his 
fatlier  sat  in  the  arm  chair  near  bv,  reading  the 
paper.     Every  now  and  then,  as  he  bent  over  his 


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266 


3EUT  LLOYD  «J   BOYHOOD. 


books,  Bert  gave  a  deep  sigh  that  seemed  to  well  up 
from  tlie  verv  bottom  of  his  heart.  Mr.  Llovd  noxtd 
this,  and  presently,  laying  his  paper  down,  said,  pleas- 
antly : 

•  "  Bert  dear,  put  your  lessons  aside  for  a  few  min- 
utes, and  come  over  here.  I  want  to  have  a  talk 
with  you." 

Bert  started  and  flushed  slightly,  but  obeyed  at 
once,  drawing  his  ciiaii^  close  up  beside  his  father's. 
Laying  his  hand  upon  Bert's  knee,  and  looking  him 
full  in  the  face,  Mr.  Llovd  asked  : 
■■  "  Now,  Bert,  tell  me  what's  the  matter  with  you. 
There's  something  on  your  mind,  I  know;  and  it 
has  not  been  your  way  to  keep  any  secrets  from 
me.     Won't  you  tell  me  what  is  troubling  you?" 

Bert  fidgeted  in  his  chair,  the  flush  deepened  in 
his  face,  his  eyes  dropped  before  his  father's  searching 
gaze,  and  his  hands  worked  nervously.  At  la!»t, 
with  an  apparent  eifort,  he  replied,  in  a  low  tone: 

"  There's  nothing  the  matter  with  me,  father." 
'    Mr.  Lloyd  sighed,  and  looked  troubled. 
,    "  Yes,  there  is,  Bert.     You  know  there  is.    Now, 
don't  conceal  it  from  me,  but  speak  right  out.     Re- 
member your  motto,  Bert :  *  Quit  you  like  men.'  " 

TliC  working  of  Bert's  countenance  showed  clearly 
the  struggle  that  was  going  on  within,  and  there  was 
silence  for  a  moment,  while  Mr.  Lloyd  awaited  his 
answer,  praying  earnestly  the  while  that  his  boy 
might  be  helped  to  do  the  right.     Then,  suddenly, 


ifft^: 


BERT  LLOYB's   BOYHOOD. 


267 


Bert  sprang  up,  darted  toward  the  door,  and  heeding 
not  his  fatiier's  surprised  exclamation  of — "Bert, 
Bert,  aren't  you  going  to  answer  nie?"  ran  up  the 
stairs  to  iiis  own  room.  An  instant  more  and  he 
returned,  bearing  a  volume  which  he  phiced  in  Mr. 
Lloyd's  hands;  and  then,  throwing  iiimself  on  tiie 
soth,  he  buried  his  head  iu  the  cushions,  and  burst  into 
a  passion  of  tears. 

Bewildered  by  this  unexpected  action,  Mr.  Lloyd's 
first  impulse  was  to  take  his  boy  in  his  arms  and  try 
to  soothe  him.  Then  he  bethouiiht  himself  of  the 
hook  lying  in  his  lap,  and  turned  to  it  for  an  ex- 
planation  of   the   mvsterv.     It    was    an    innocent- 

I  v  « 

enough  looking  volume,  antl  seemed  at  first  glance  to 
make  matters  no  clearer,  but  as  he  held  it  in  his  hands 
there  came  back  to  him  the  recollection  of  his  own 
schoolboy  days,  and  like  a  flash  the  thing  was  plain 
to  him.  Bert  had  been  using  a  "  pony,"  and  in  some 
way  had  come  to  realize  the  extent  of  his  wrong 
doino;. 

With  feelincrs  divided  between  sorrow  that  his  bov 
should  fall  a  victim  to  this  temptation,  and  gladness 
that  he  should  have  the  courage  to  confess  it,  Mr. 
Lloyd  went  over  to  the  sofa,  lifted  Bert  up  gently, 
and  placed  him  on  the  chair  beside  him. 

"  Come,  now,  Bert  dear,"  said  he,  in  his  tendcrest 
tones,  "don't  be  afraid,  but  just  tell  me  all  about 


It 


» 


In  a  voice  much  broken  bv  sobs,  Bert  then  told 


wn 


la 


268 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


the  whole  story,  beginning  with  the  first  conversation 
with  Regie  Se^wyn,  and  leaving  out  nothing.  His 
father  listened  intently,  and  it  was  clear  the  recital 
moved  iiini  deeply.  When  it  ended,  he  silently  lifted 
up  his  heart  in  praise  to  God  that  his  darling  boy 
had  been  delivered  from  so  great  a  danger,  and  lie 
determined  that  Dr.  Chrystal  should  not  fail  to  liear 
how  eifective  his  faithful  preaching  had  been. 

"I  need  not  tell  von,  Bert,  how  sad  this  makes  niv 
heart,  but  I  will  not  add  my  reproaches  to  the  re- 
morse you  already  feel,"  said  he,  gravely.  "  You  liavo 
done  very,  very  wrong,  dear,  and  it  is  now  your  duty 
to  make  that  wrong  right  again,  so  far  as  is  in  your 
power.  What  do  you  think  yourself  you  ought  to 
do?" 

"  I  must  ask  God  to  forgive  me,  father,"  answered 
Bert,  almost  in  a  whisper. 

"  But  is  that  all?  Is  there  no  one  else  of  whom 
you  should  ask  forgiveness  ?  " 

"Yes,  of   vou." 

"I  have  forgiven  you  already,  Bert,  for  I  know 
that  you  are  sincerely  sorry.  But  I  think  there  is 
some  one  else  still.  Ouo;ht  vou  not  to  ask  Dr.  John- 
ston's  forgiveness?" 

"  Why,  father,"  exclaimed  Bert,  looking  up  with 
an  expression  of  surprise,  '*  Dr.  Johnston  does  not 
know  anything  about  it." 

"Ah,  yes,  Bert,  true  enough  ;  but  remember  tliat 
ever  since  you've  been  using  the  translation  you've 


h!ist 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


2(39 


se  of  "wliom 


been  getting  credit  from  him  for  work  you  had  not 
really  done.  Was  that  providing  things  honest  iu 
tlie  siglit  of  all  men,  do  you  think  ?" 

Bert  flushed  and  looked  down  again.  He  was 
silent  for  a  little  while,  and  then  said  : 

"  But,  father,  1  could  never  tell  Dr.  Johnston. 
He  is  so  stern  and  severe." 

'•  Do  vou  think  God  will  ever  fullv  forujive  vou 
while  you  are  concealing  from  Dr.  Johnston  what 
vou  ouffht  in  common  honestv  to  tell  him?" 

This  question  evidently  staggered  him,  and  Mr. 
Lloyd,  seeing  what  a  strug;^le  was  going  on  within 
him,  put  his  hand  upon  his  shoulder,  and  said,  with 
tender  emphasis : 

"  Remember,  Bert :  '  Quit  you  like  men,  be  strong.'" 

For  a  moment  longer  Bert  seemed  irresohite. 
Then  suddenly  his  countenance  brightened,  his  fea- 
tures settled  into  an  expression  of  firm  determination, 
and  rising  to  his  feet,  with  hands  clenched  and  eyes 
flashing,  he  stood  before  his  father,  and  almost  shouted : 

"  Yes,  father,  I  will ;  I'll  tell  him.  I  don't  care 
wliat  he  does  to  me." 

"  God  bless  vou,  mv  brave  bov  !  "  exclaimed  Mr. 
Lloyd,  as,  almost  over-mastered  by  his  emotions,  he 
tlirew  his  arms  around  his  neck,  and  hugged  him  to 
iiis  heart,  the  big  tears  pouring  down  his  happy  face. 

Just  at  that  moment  the  door  opened,  and  Mrs. 
Lloyd  and  Mary  entered.  Great  was  their  surprise 
at  the  scene  they  witnessed.     But  they  soon  under- 


^ 


270 


BERT  liLOYD'S   BOYHOOD; 


W 


Stood  it  all,  and  when  the  whole  story  was  known  to 
tliera  thev  were  no  less  thankful  than  Mr.  Llovd  tlmt 
Bert  had  come  off  conqueror  in  this  sharp  struggle 
with  the  eneniv  of  souls. 

It  was  a  hard  task  that  lay  before  Bert,  and  he 
would  have  been  sornetlang  more  than  mortal  if  iiis 
resolution  did  not  falter  as  he  thought  about  it.  But 
he  strengthened  himself  by  repeati-  g  the  words  "Quit 
you  like  men,  be  strong,"  laying  much  emphasis  on 
the  latter  clause.  His  father  thought  it  best  for  him 
to  go  very  early  the  next  morning,  taking  the  book 
with  him,  and  to  seek  an  interview  with  Dr.  Joiuuston 
before  he  went  into  the  school. 

Accordingly,  in  the  morning,  wiili  throbbing  heart 
and  feverish  pulse,  Bert  knocked  at  the  doctor's  private 
entrance.  On  asking  for  the  master  he  was  at  once 
shown  into  the  study,  where  the  dread  doctor  was 
glancing  over  the  morning  paper  before  he  took  up 
the  work  of  the  day. 

"  Well,  Lloyd,  what  brings  you  here  so  early  ?  "  he 
asked,  in  some  surprise. 

With  much  difficulty,  and  in  broken  sentences,  Btrt 
explained  the  object  of  his  visit,  the  doctor  listening 
with  an  impassive  countenance  that  gave  no  hint  of 
how  the  story  affected  him.  When  he  had  ended.  Dr. 
Johnston  remained  silent  a  moment  as  if  lost  in  re- 
flection, then  placing  his  hand  upon  the  boy's  shoulder, 
and  looking  at  him  with  an  expression  of  deep  ten- 
derness such  as  Bert  had  never  seen  in  his  countenance 


•  BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


2Z1 


before,  he  said,  in  tones  whose  kindness  there  could  be 
no  mistaking: 

"You  have  done  well,  Llovd,  to  tell  me  this.  I 
lioiior  vou  for  vour  confession,  and  I  feel  confident 
tiuit  never  so  long  as  you  are  a  pupil  in  this  school 
will  you  fall  in'-o  like  wrong  doing.  You  may  tell 
your  fatlier  what  I  have  said.  Good-morning."  And 
lie  turned  away,  perhaps  to  hide  something  that  made 
ills  eyes  moist. 

Feeling  much  as  Christian  must  have  felt  when  the 
burden  broke  from  his  back  and  rolled  into  the  sep- 
ulchre gaping  to  receive  it,  Bert  went  to  his  seat  in 
tlio  schoolroom.  The  ordeal  was  ove:',  and  his  penance 
complete. 

His  frank  penitence  was  destined  to  exert  a  far 
wider  influence  than  he  ever  imaorii-ed,  and  that  im- 
iiK'diately.  The  volume  he  placed  in  Dr.  Johnston's 
hands  set  tiie  master  thinking.  "  If,"  he  reasoned, 
"Burt  Llovd,  one  of  tiie  best  bovs  in  mv  sciiool,  has 
fallen  into  tiiis  wrong  doing,  it  must  be  more  common 
than  I  supposed.  Perliaps  were  I  to  tell  the  school 
what  Lloyd  has  just  told  me,  it  might  do  good.  The 
experiment  is  worth  trying,  at  all  events." 

Acting  upon  this  thought.  Dr.  Johnston,  shortly  after 
the  school  had  settled  down  for  the  day's  work,  rapped 
upon  his  desk  as  a  signal  that  he  had  sometiiini;  to  sav 
to  the  scholars,  and  then,  when  tlie  attention  of  all 
had  been  secured,  he  proceeded  to  tell,  in  clear,  concise 
:uao:e,  the  incident  of  the  morning.     Many  eyes 


'o^> 


272 


BERT  LLOYDS   BOYHOOD. 


were  turned  upon  Bert  while  the  doctor  was  speaking, 
but  he  kept  liis  fixed  closely  upon  his  desk,  for  he 
knew  that  lus  clieeks  were  burning,  and  lie  wouilered 
what  the  other  boys  were  thinking  of  him.  In  con- 
cluding, Dr.  Joiinston  made  tiie  following  appeal, 
which  was  indeed  his  chief  purpose  iu  mentioning  the 
matter  at  all. 

"Now, scholars,"  said  he,  in  tones  of  mingled  kind- 
liness and  firmness,  "  I  feel  very  sure  that  Lloyd  is 
not  the  only  boy  in  this  school  who  has  been  using  a 
translation  to  assist  him  in  his  classical  work,  and  mv 
object  in  telling  you  what  he  told  nie  is  that  it  mav 
perhaps  inspire  those  who  have  been  doing  as  he  did 
to  confess  it  in  the  manlv,  honest  wav  that  he  has  done, 
and  for  which  we  must  all  honor  him.  Boys,  I  appeal 
to  your  honor,"  he  continued,  raising  his  voice  until 
it  rang  through  the  room,  startling  his  hearers  by  its 
unaccustomed  volume.  "  Who  among  you,  like  Bert 
Lloyd,  will  confess  that  you  have  been  using  a  trans- 
lation?" 

There  was  a  thrilling  silence,  during  which  one 
mitfht  almost  have  heard  the  bovs'  hearts  beat  as  the 
doctor  paused,  and  with  his  piercing  eyes  glanced  np 
and  down  the  long  rows  of  awe-stricken  boys.  For  a 
moment  no  one  moved.  Then  there  was  a  stir,  a 
shuffling  of  feet,  and  Regie  Selwyn,  with  cheeks  aflame, 
rose  slowly  in  his  seat,  and  said,  in  a  low  but  distinct 
voice : 

"  I  have,  sir.*' 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


273 


A  gleam  of  joy  flashed  in  the  doctor's  dark  eyes  as 
lie  looked  toward  the  speaker,  but  he  said  notiiing. 
Tlu'ii  another  and  anotlier  rose  and  made  a  like  con- 
fession, until  some  six  in  all  had  thus  acknowledged 
their  fault.  There  was  no  mistaking  the  pleasure 
that  shone  in  the  master's  face  at  this  answer  to  his 
ai>pLal.  When  it  became  clear  that,  however  many 
more  might  be  no  less  guilty,  no  more  were  going  to 
confess  it,  he  spoke  again  : 

"  While  it  grieves  me  to  know  that  the  use  of 
translations  has  been  so  extensive,  I  am  also  glad  to 
find  that  so  many  of  my  boys  possess  the  true  spirit 
of  manliness.  I  ask  them  to  promise  me  that  they 
will  never  look  at  those  books  again,  and  if  there  be 
others  in  the  school  who  might  have  admitted  the 
same  impropriety,  but  have  not,  I  appeal  to  you  to 
show  by  your  contempt  of  such  helps  your  determi- 
nation that  nothing  but  what  is  honest,  fair,  and  manly 
shall  characterize  the  actions  of  the  scholars  of  this 
school." 

And  with  this  the  doctor  resumed  his  seat. 


^H 

I^^^^^^^^^^^H 

v 

:|; 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 


ABOUT  LITERATURE  AND   LAW. 


FIVE  years  had  passed  since  Cuthbert  Lloyd's 
uame  was  first  inscribed  in  the  big  register  on 
Dr.  Johnston^s  desk,  and  lie  had  been  surely,  steadily 
rising  to  the  proud  position  of  being  the  first  boy  in 
the  school,  the  ^'dux"  as  the  doctor  with  his  love  fur 
the  classics  preferred  to  call  it. 

And  yet  there  were  some  branches  of  study  that  lie 
still  seemed  unable  to  get  a  good  hold  upon,  or  make 
satisfactory  progress  with.  One  of  these  was  algebra. 
For  some  reason  or  other,  the  hidden  principles  of 
this  puzzling  science  eluded  his  grasp,  as  though  a 
and  X  had  been  eels  of  phenomenal  activity.  He 
tried  again  and  again  to  pierce  the  obscurity  that 
enshrouded  them,  but  at  best  with  imperfect  success; 
and  it  was  a  striking  fact  that  he  should,  term  iifter 
term,  carry  off  the  arithmetic  prize  by  splendid  scores, 
and  vet  be  ineloriouslv  beaten  at  algebra. 

Another  subject  that  became  a  great  bugbear  to 
liim  was  what  was  known  as  composition.  On  Fri- 
days the  senior  boys  were  required  to  bring  an  orig- 
inal composition,  covering  at  least  two  pages  of  letter 
paper,  upon  any  subject  they  saw  fit.  This  require- 
274 


BERT  LLOYD'S   BOYHOOD. 


275 


)ert  Lloyd's 


t  bugbear  to 


incut  made  tluit  dav  ''  black  Friilav "  for  Bert  and 
iiiiuiv  Others  besides.  Tlie  writing:  of  a  letter  or  com- 
pusiviou  is  probably  the  hardest  task  that  can  be  set 
botbrc  a  schoolboy.  It  was  safe  to  say  that  in  many 
cases  a  whipping  would  be  grau fully  preferred.  But 
lor  the  disgrace  of  the  thing,  Bert  would  certainly 
rather  at  any  time  have  taken  a  mild  whipping  thau 
sit  ilown  and  write  an  essay. 

At  the  tirst,  taking  pity  upon  his  evident  helpless- 
iK'ss,  Mr.  Lloyd  gave  him  a  good  deal  of  assistance, 
or  allowed  Mary — the  ever-willing  and  ever-helpful 
Mary — to  do  so.  But  after  a  while  he  thought  Bert 
should  run  alone,  and  prohibited  further  aid.  Thus 
thrown  upon  his  own  resources,  the  poor  fellow  strug- 
gled hard,  to  very  little  purpose.  Even  when  his 
fatiier  gave  him  a  lift  to  the  extent  of  suggesting  a 
good  theme,  he  found  it  almost  impossible  to  write 
aiivthina:  about  it. 

One  Friday  he  went  without  having  prepared  a 
conipobition.  He  hoped  that  Dr.  Johnston  would 
just  keep  him  in  after  school  for  a  while,  or  give  him 
an  "  imposition"  of  fifty  lines  of  Virgil  to  copy  as  a 
penalty,  and  that  that  would  be  an  end  of  the  matter. 
But,  as  it  turned  out,  the  doctor  thought  otherwise. 
AV  iien  Bert  presented  no  composition  he  inquired  if 
ho  had  any  excuse,  meaning  a  note  from  his  father 
asking  that  he  l)e  excused  this  time.  Bert  answered 
that  he  had  not. 

"Then,"  said   Dr.  Johnston,  sternly,  "you  must 


276 


BERT  LLOYD  S   BOYHOOD, 


rcniaiii  in  after  school  until  your  ^oniposliiuu  is 
written.'' 

Bert  was  a  good  deal  troubled  by  this  unexpected 
penalty,  but  there  was  of  course  no  appeal  from  the 
waster's  decision.  The  school  hours  passed,  three 
o'clock  came,  and  all  the  scholars  save  those  wlio  were 
kept  in  for  various  shortcomings  went  joyfully  oil"  to 
their  play,  leaving  the  big,  baie,  dreary  room  to  the 
doctor  and  his  prisoners.  Then  one  by  one,  as  they 
met  the  conditions  of  their  sentence,  or  made  up  liioir 
deficiencies  in  work,  they  slipped  quietly  away,  and 
ere  the  old  vellow-faced  clock  solemn Iv  struck  the 
hour  of  four,  Bert  was  alone  with  the  grim  and  sileut 
master. 

He  had  not  been  idle  during  that  hour.  He  had 
made  more  than  one  attempt  to  prepare  some  sort  of 
a  composition,  but  both  ideas  and  words  utterly  failed 
him.  He  could  not  even  think  of  a  subject,  much 
less  cover  two  pages  of  letter  paper  with  conuiients 
upon  it.  By  four  o'clock  despair  had  settled  down 
upon  him,  and  he  sat  at  his  desk  doing  nothing,  and 
waiting  he  hardly  knew  for  what. 

Another  hour  passed,  and  still  Bert  had  made  no 
start,  and  still  the  doctor  sat  at  his  desk  absorl)ed  in  his 
book  and  apparently  quite  oblivious  of  the  boy  before 
him.  Six  o'clock  drew  near,  and  with  it  the  early 
dusk  of  an  autumn  evening.  Bert  was  growing  faint 
with  hunger,  and  oh  !  so  weary  of  his  confinement. 
Not  until  it  was  too  dark  to  read  any  longer  did  Dr. 


BERT  Lloyd's  BoruooD. 


277 


Joluiston  move ;  and  then,  wiiljout  noticing  Bert,  he 
went  down  tiie  room,  und  disappeared  throngli  tiie 
door  tiiat  li.'d  into  liis  own  apartments: 

"My  gracious!  "  exclaimed  Bert,  in  alarm.  "Surely 
lie  is  not  going  to  leave  me  here  all  alone  in  the  dark 
I'll  jump  out  of  tlie  window  if  he  does." 

]Jut  that  was  not  tlie  master's  idea,  for  shortly 
lie  returned  witii  two  candles,  placed  one  on  either 
side  of  Bert's  desk,  then  went  to  his  desk,  drew  forth 
the  louijf,  black  strap,  whose  cruel  sting  Bert  had  not 
felt  for  years,  and  stamling  in  front  of  the  quaking 
boy,  looking  the  very  type  <.  f  unrelenting  sternness, 
said  : 

"  You  shall  not  leave  your  seat  until  your  composi- 
tion is  finished,  and  if  you  have  not  made  a  beginning 
iiiside  of  five  minutes  you  may  expect  punishment." 

80  saying,  he  strode  oft'  into  the  darkness,  and  up 
and  down  the  long  room,  now  filled  with  strange 
sliadows,  swishing  the  strap  against  the  desks  as  he 
pas.-ed  to  and  fro.  Bert's  feelings  may  be  more  easily 
imagined  than  described.  Hungry,  weary,  frightened, 
he  grasped  his  pen  with  trembling  fingers,  and  bent 
over  the  paper. 

For  the  first  minute  or  two  not  a  word  was  written. 
Tiien,  as  if  struck  by  some  happy  thought,  he  scrib- 
bled down  a  title  quickly  and  paused.  In  a  moment 
more  he  wrote  again,  and  soon  one  whole  paragraph 
was  done. 

The  five  minutes  having  elapsed,  the  doctor  emerged 


m 

aIr: 

m 

278 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


from  the  gloom  and  came  up  to  see  what  progress  had 
been  made.  He  looked  over  Bert's  slioulder  at  tlie 
crooked  linos  that  straggled  over  iialf  tl»e  pasxe,  hut 
he  could  not  have  read  more  than  the  title,  when  the 
shadows  of  the  great  empty  room  were  startled  by  a 
peal  of  laughter  that  went  echoing  through  the  dark- 
ness, and,  clapping  the  boy  graciously  upon  his  back, 
the  master  said  : 

"  That  will  do,  Lloyd.  The  title  is  quite  sufficient. 
You  mav  go  now ; '"  for  he  had  a  keen  sense  of  humor 
and  a  thorough  relish  of  a  joke,  and  the  subject 
selected  by  Bert  was  peculiarly  appropriate,  being 
"  Necessity  is  the  Moth'ir  of  Invention." 

Mr.  Lloyd  was  so  delighted  with  Bert's  ingenuity 
that  thenceforth  he  gave  him  very  effective  assistance 
in  the  preparation  of  his  weekly  essays,  and  they  were 
no  Ioniser  the  buijbear  that  tliev  had  been. 

It  was  not  long  after  this  experience  that  Bert  luul 
an  experience  with  the  law  not  less  memorable. 

In  an  adjoinincr  street,  there  lived  a  familv  bv  tlie 
name  of  Dodson,  that  possessed  a  very  large,  old,  nnd 
cross  Newfoundland  dog,  which  had,  by  its  frequent 
exhibitions  of  ill-temper,  became  quite  a  nuisance  to 
the  neighborho(  d.  They  htul  often  been  spoken  to 
about  their  dog's  readiness  to  snap  at  people,  but  lia<l 
refused  to  chain  him  up,  or  send  him  away,  because 
thev  had  a  livelv  aversion  to  small  bovs^and  old  Lion 
was  certainly  successful  in  causing  them  to  give  the 
Dodson  premises  a  wide  berth. 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


279 


One  afternoon  Bert  and  Frank  were  going  along 
tlie  street  playing  catch  with  a  ball  the  formei*  had 
just  purchased,  when,  as  they  passed  the  Dodson 
liDiise,  a  wild  throw  from  Frank  sent  the  ball  out  of 
])ert's  reach,  and  it  rolled  under  the  gate  of  the  yanl. 
Not  thinking  of  the  irascible  Lion  in  his  haste  to 
recover  the  ball,  Bert  opened  the  gate,  and  the 
moment  he  did  so,  with  a  fierce  growl  the  huge  dog 
sprang  at  him  and  fastened  his  teeth  in  his  left  cheek. 

Bert  shrieked  with  fright  and  pain,  and  in  an  in- 
stant Frank  was  beside  him,  and  had  his  strong  hands 
li<:ht  around  Lion's  throat.  Immediatelv  the  old  doij 
let  Bert  go,  and  slunk  off  to  his  kennel,  while  Frank, 
seizing  his  handkerchief  pressed  it  to  the  ugly  wound 
ill  Bert's  cheek.  Great  though  the  pain  was,  Bert 
quickly  regained  his  self-possession,  and  hastening 
home  had  his  wounds  covered  with  plaster.  Furtu- 
iiatelv,  thev  were  not  inanv  wise  serious.  Thev  bled 
a  good  deal,  and  they  promised  to  spoil  his  beauty  for 
a  time  at  least,  but,  as  there  was  no  reason  to  suppose 
that  the  dog  was  mad,  that  was  the  worst  of  them. 

Mr.  Lloyd  was  very  much  incensed  when  he  saw 
Bert's  injuries,  and  heard  from  him  and  Frank  the 
particulars  of  the  affair.  He  determined  to  make  one 
more  appeal  to  the  Dodsons  to  put  the  dog  away,  and 
if  that  were  unsuccessful,  to  call  upon  the  authorities 
to  compel  them  to  do  so. 

Another  person  who  was  not  less  exercised  about  it 
was  Michael,  the  man  of  all  work.    He  was  very  fond 


280 


BERT  LJX)YD'8   BOYHOOD. 


W 


and  proud  of  the  young  master,  as  he  called  Bert,  and 
that  a  dog  sliould  dare  to  put  his  teeth  into  him  filled 
him  with  righteous  wrath.  Furthermore,  like  many 
of  his  class,  he  firmly  believed  in  the  superstition  that 
unless  thedo":  was  killed  at  once,  Bert  would  certainly 
go  mad.  Mr.  Lloyd  laughed  at  liim  good-humoredly 
wheu  he  earnestly  advocated  the  summary  execution 
of  Lion,  and  refused  to  have  anything  to  do  with  it. 
But  the  faithful  affectionate  fellow  was  not  to  be  di- 
verted from  his  purpose,  and  accordingly  t^ie  next 
night  after  the  attack,  he  stealthily  approached  the 
Dobson  yard  from  the  rear,  got  close  to  old  Lion's 
kennel,  and  then  threw  down  before  his  very  nose  a 
juicy  bit  of  beefsteak,  in  which  a  strong  dose  of  poi- 
son had  been  cunningly  concealed.  The  unsuspecting 
dog  took  the  tempting  bait,  and  the  next  morning  lay 
stiff  and  stark  in  death,  before  his  kennel  door. 

When  the  Dobsons  found  their  favorite  dead,  they 
were  highiy  enraged  ;  and  taking  it  for  granted  that 
either  Mr.  Lloyd  or  some  one  in  his  interest  or  his 
employ  was  guilty  cf  Lion's  untimely  demise,  Mr. 
Dobson,  without  waiting  to  institute  inquiries,  rushed 
off  to  the  City  Police  Court,  and  lodged  a  complaint 
against  the  one  who  he  conceived  was  the  guilty 
party. 

Mr.  Lloyd  was  not  a  little  surprised  when,  later  in 
the  morning,  a  blue-coated  and  silver-buttoned  police- 
man presented  himself  at  his  office,  and,  in  the  nio=t 
respectful  manner  possible,  served  upon  him  a  sum- 


l!ii: 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


281 


mons  to  appear  before  tlie  magistrate  to  answer 
to  a  complaint  made  by  one  Thomas  Dobson,  who 
alleged  that  he  "had  with  malice  prepense  and  afore- 
thoiiglit  killed  or  caused  to  be  killed  a  certain  New- 
foundland dog,  the  same  being  the  property  of  the 
said  Tiiomas  Dodson,  and  thereby  caused  damage  to 
the  complainant,  to  the  amount  of  one  hundred  dol- 
lars." 

So  soon  as  Mr.  Lloyd  read  the  summons,  which  was 
the  first  intimation  he  had  had  of  Lion's  taking  off, 
he  at  once  suspected  who  was  the  real  criminal.  But 
of  course  he  said  nothing  to  the  policeman  beyond 
assuring  him  that  he  would  duly  appear  to  answer  to 
the  summons. 

That  evening  he  sent  for  Michael,  and  without  anv 
words  of  explanation  placed  the  summons  in  his  hand. 
Tiie  countenance  of  the  honest  fellow  as  he  slowly 
read  it  through  and  took  in  its  import  was  an  amus- 
ing study.  Bewilderment,  surprise,  indignation,  and 
alarm  were  in  turn  expressed  in  his  frank  face,  and 
when  he  had  finished  he  stood  before  Mr.  Llovd 
speechless,  but  looking  as  though  he  wanted  ^'"  say : 
"  What  will  you  be  after  doing  to  me  now,  thut  I've 
got  you  into  such  a  scrape?" 

Assuming  a  seriousness  he  did  not  really  feel,  Mr. 
Llovd  looked  hard  at  Michael,  as  lie  asked : 

*•  Do  vou  know  anvthini;  about  this?" 

Midiael  reddened,  and  dropped  his  eyes  to  the 
ground,  but  answered,  unhesitatingly  : 


M 


■^wi 


II 


ill  w 


m 


m  ''^•- 


i 


Mi  ■ 


282 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


"  I  do,  sir.  It  was  meself  that  gave  the  old  brute 
the  dose  of  medicine  that  fixed  him.'' 

"  But,  Michael,"  said  Mr.  Lloyd,  with  difficulty  re- 
straining a  smile,  ^'  it  was  not  right  of  you  to  take 
the  law  into  vour  own  hands  in  that  wav.  You  knew 
well  enough  that  I  could  not  approve  of  it." 

"  I  did,  indeed,  sir,"  answered  Michael,  *^  but,"  lift- 
ing up  his  head  as  his  warm  Irish  heart  stirred  within 
him,  "  I  couldn't  sleep  at  night  for  thinking  of  what 
might  happen  to  the  young  master  if  the  dog  weren't 
killed ;  and,  so  unbeknownst  to  anybody,  I  just  slipped 
over  the  fence,  and  dropped  him  a  bit  of  steak  that  I 
knew  he  would  take  to  kindly.  I'm  very  crry,  sir, 
if  I've  got  you  into  any  trouble,  but  sure  can't  you 
just  tell  them  that  it  was  Michael  that  did  the  mis- 
chief, and  then  thev  won't  bother  vou  at  all." 

"  No,  no,  Michael.  I'm  not  going  to  do  that.  You 
meant  for  the  best  what  vou  did,  and  vou  did  it  for 
the  sake  of  my  boy,  so  I  will  assume  the  respon- 
sibility; but  I  hope  it  will  be  a  lesson  to  you  not  to 
take  the  law  into  your  own  hands  again.  You  see  it 
is  apt  to  have  awkward  consequences." 

"  That's  true,  sir,"  assented  Michael,  looking  much 
relieved  at  this  conclusion.  "  I'll  promise  to  be  care- 
ful next  time,  but — "  pausing  a  moment  as  he  turned 
to  leave  the  room — "  it's  glad  I  am  that  that  cross 
old  brute  can't  have  another  chance  at  Master  Bert, 
all  the  same."  And  having  uttered  this  note  of  tri- 
umph, he  made  a  low  bow  and  disappeared. 


BEBT   LIX)YD's   BOYHOOD. 


283 


the  old  brute 


Mr.  Lloyd  had  a  good  laugh  after  the  door  closed 
upon  him. 

"  He's  a  faithful  creature,"  he  said,  kindly ;  "  but 
I'm  afraid  his  fidelity  is  going  to  cost  me  something 
tliis  time.  However,  I  won't  mai^e  him  unhappy  by 
letting  him  know  that." 

The  trial  was  fixed  for  the  following  Friday,  and 
that  day  Bert  was  excused  from  school  in  order  to  be 
present  as  a  witness.  His  scars  were  healing  rapidly, 
but  still  presented  an  ugly  enough  appearance  to  make 
it  clear  that  worthy  Michael's  indignation  was  not 
without  cause. 

Now  this  was  the  first  time  that  Bert  had  ever  been 
inside  a  court  room ;  and,  although  his  father  was  a 
lawver,  the  fact  that  he  made  a  rule  never  to  carrv 
his  business  home  with  him  had  caused  Bert  to  grow 
up  in  entire  ignorance  of  the  real  nature  of  court 
proceedings.  The  only  trials  that  had  ever  interested 
him  being  those  in  which  the  life  or  liberty  of  the 
person  most  deeply  concerned  was  at  stake,  he  had 
naturallv  formed  the  idea  that  all  trials  were  of  this 
nature,  and  consequently  regarded  with  very  lively 
sympathy  the  defendants  in  a  couple  of  cases  that  had 
tlie  precedence  of  "  Dodsou  vs.  Lloyd." 

Feeling  quite  sure  that  the  unhappy  individuals 
who  were  called  upon  to  defend  themselves  were  in  a 
very  evil  pliglit,  he  was  surprised  and  shocked  at  the 
callous  levity  of  the  lawyers,  and  even  of  the  magis- 
trate, a  small-sized  man,  to  whom  a  full  gray  beard, 


' 


71  ;>  •■ 

.■rt     ■ 


1^.  ' 


284 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


a  pair  of  gold-bowed  spectacles,  and  a  deep  voice  im- 
parted an  air  of  dignity  he  would  not  otherwise  have 
possessed.  Tliat  they  should  crack  jokes  with  each 
other  over  such  serious  matters  was  something  lie 
could  not  understand,  as  with  eyes  and  ears  that 
missed  nothing  he  observed  all  that  went  on  around 
him. 

At  length,  after  an  hour  or  more  of  waiting,  the 
case  of  "  Dodsou  vs.  Lloyd "  was  called,  and  Bert, 
now  to  his  deep  concern,  beheld  his  father  in  the 
same  position  as  had  been  the  persons  whom  he 
was  just  pitying;  for  the  magistrate,  looking,  as  Bert 
thought,  very  stern,  called  upon  him  to  answer  to 
the  complaint  of  Thomas  Dodson,  who  alleged,  etc., 
etc.,  etc. 

Mr.  Lloyd  plead  his  own  cause,  and  it  was  not  a 
very  heavy  undertaking,  for  the  simple  reason  that  he 
made  no  defense  bevond  stating  that  the  door  had 
been  poisoned  by  his  servant  witliout  his  knowledge 
or  approval,  and  asking  that  Bert's  injuries  might  be 
taken  into  account  in  mitigation  of  damages.  The 
magistrate  accordingly  asked  Bert  to  go  into  the  wit- 
ness box,  and  the  clerk  administered  the  oath,  Bert 
kissing  the  greasy  old  Bible  that  had  in  its  time  been 
touched  by  many  a  perjured  lip,  with  an  unsophisti- 
cated fervor  that  brought  out  a  smile  upon  the  coun- 
tenances of  the  spectators. 

He  was  then  asked  to  give  his  version  of  the  affair. 
Naturally  enough,  he  hesitated  a  little  at  first,  but 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


285 


encouraged  by  his  father's  smiles,  he  soon  got  over  his 
nervousness,  and  told  a  very  plain,  straightforward 
story.  Mr.  Dodson's  lawyer,  a  short,  thick  man  with 
a  nose  like  a  paroquet's,  bushy  black  whiskers,  and  a 
very  obtrusive  pair  of  spectacles,  then  proceeded,  in  a 
rough,  hard  voice,  to  try  his  best  to  draw  Bert  into 
admitting  that  he  had  been  accustomed  to  tease  the 
dog,  and  to  throw  stones  at  him.  But  although  he 
asked  a  number  of  questions  beginning  with  a  "  Now, 
sir,  did  you  not?"  or,  *'Now,  sir,  can  you  deny  that?" 
etc.,  uttered  in  very  awe-inspiring  tones,  he  did  not 
succeed  in  shaking  Bert's  testimony  in  the  slightest 
degree,  or  in  entrapping  him  into  any  disadvantageous 
admission. 

At  first  Bert  was  somewhat  disconcerted  by  the 
blustering  brow-beating  manner  of  the  lawyer,  but 
after  a  few  questions  his  spirits  rose  to  the  occasion, 
and  he  answered  the  questions  in  a  prompt,  frank, 
fearless  fashion,  that  more  than  once  evoked  a  round 
of  applause  from  the  lookers-on.  He  had  nothing 
but  the  truth  to  tell  and  his  cross-examiner  ere  long 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was  futile  endeavoring 
t(i  get  him  to  tell  anything  else;  and  so,  with  rather 
bad  grace,  he  gave  it  up,  and  said  he  might  go. 

Before  leaving  the  witness  box  Bert  removed  the 
!)andages  from  his  cheek,  and  exhibited  the  marks  of 
the  dog's  teeth  to  the  magistrate,  the  sight  of  which, 
toojether  with  the  bov's  testimony,  made  such  an  im- 
pressiou  upon  him  that  he  gave  as  his  decision  that 


niii 


11^ 


286 


BERT  LLOYD'S   BOYHOOD. 


he  would  dismiss  the  case  if  Mr.  Lloyd  would  pay 
the  wts,  which  the  latter  very  readily  agreed  to  do ; 
and  so  the  matter  ended — not  quite  to  the  satisfaction 
of  Mr.  Dodson,  but  upon  the  whole  in  pretty  close 
accordance  with  the  strict  principles  of  right  and 
justice. 

Michael  was  very  greatly  relieved  when  he  heard 
the  result,  for  he  had  been  worrying  a  good  deal  over 
what  he  feared  Mr.  Lloyd  might  suffer  iu  consequence 
of  his  excess  of  zeal. 

"  So  they  got  nothing  for  their  old  dog,  after  all," 
he  exclaimed,  in  high  glee.  "  Well,  they  got  as  much 
as  he  was  worth  at  all  events,  and," — sinking  his 
voice  to  a  whisper, — "  between  you  and  me,  Master 
Bert,  if  another  dog  iver  puts  his  teeth  into  you  I'll 
be  after  givin'  him  the  same  medicine  so  sure  as  my 
name's  Michael  Flynn." 


»■ 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

WELL  DONE,    BOYS  I 


THERE  comes  a  time  in  the  life  of  nearly  every 
boy  who  attends  Sunday-school  when,  no  matter 
how  faithful  to  it  he  may  have  been,  he  finds  grad- 
ually stealing  in  upon  him  the  feeling  that  he  is  grow- 
ing too  old  for  it,  and  he  becomes  restive  under  its 
restraints.  He  sees  other  boys  of  the  same  age  going 
off  for  a  pleasant  walk,  or  otherwise  spending  the 
afternoon  as  they  please,  and  he  envies  them  their 
freedom.  He  thinks  liimself  already  sufficiently 
familiar  with  Bible  truth  for  all  practical  purjioses, 
and  the  lessons  lose  their  interest  for  him.  He  has 
perhaps  no  ambition  for  becoming  a  teacher,  nor  even 
of  being  promoted  to  a  chair  in  the  Bible  class. 

How  best  to  meet  the  case  of  this  bov,  and  save 
liim  to  the  Sundav-school  is  one  of  the  most  difficult 
questions  that  present  themselves  to  those  engaged  in 
that  work.  You  must  not  scold  him  or  vou  will  infalli- 
bly  drive  him  away  at  once  and  forever.  Neither  is 
it  wise  to  seek  to  bring  into  play  influences  that  will 
compel  him  to  attend  nolens,  volens,  for  that  will  but 
deepen  his  dislike,  and  make  him  long  the  more 
eagerly  for  the  time  when  he  will  be  his  own  master 
in  the  matter. 

287 


m 


w 


R/..  > 


«■ 


288 


BEUT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


There  seem  to  be  but  two  possible  solutions  of  the 
problem.  You  must  either  uppeal  to  the  boy'-s 
natural  sense  of  independence,  and  desire  for  import- 
ance by  malting  some  special  provision  for  him  tiiat 
will  mark  a  distinction  between  him  and  the  younger 
folic,  or  you  must,  by  going  far  deeper,  reach  the 
spiritual  side  of  his  nature,  and  through  it  secure  his 
fidelity  to  the  school. 

To  Bert  this  temptation  had  not  presented  itself. 
He  no  more  thought  of  tiring  of  the  Sunday-school 
than  he  did  of  his  own  home.  He  had  attended 
regularly  ever  since  his  sister  Mary  would  take  him 
with  her,  and  put  him  in  the  infant  class,  and  it 
might  be  said  to  have  become  second  nature  witli  iiini. 

With  Frank,  however,  it  was  different.  He  had 
never  gone  to  Sunday-school  until  Bert  invited  him, 
and  although  for  some  years  he  was  very  fond  of  it, 
that  fondness  in  time  had  fallen  into  an  indifference, 
and  of  late  he  had  a  decided  disinclination  to  go  at  all. 
This  was  not  due  so  much  to  anv  resistance  to  the 
claims  of  religion  itself,  but  ratiier  to  a  foolish  idea 
that  he  was  now  too  old  and  too  biij  for  Sundav- 
school. 

Bert  took  his  friend's  change  of  feeling  very  much 
to  heart,  and  plead  with  him  so  earnestly,  that  for 
some  time  Frank  continued  in  his  place  just  to  please 
him  But  this  of  course  could  not  last,  and  he  was 
in  dansrer  of  drifting  awav  altogether,  when  an  event 
occurred  which  turned  the  current  of  his  life  and  set 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


289 


it  secure  his 


it  flowing  once  more  in  the  right  direction,  this  time 
witii  a  volume  it  had  never  ivuown  before. 

It  was  a  pleasant  custom  at  Calvary  Churcli  to  give 
the  Sunday-school  a  picnic  every  summer,  and  tliese 
j)icnics  were  most  enjoyable  affairs.  A  better  place 
than  Halifax  Harbor  for  the  holding  of  a  p»<nio 
could  hardly  be  conceived.  You  go,  of  course,  by 
steamer,  and  then  have  the  choice  of  some  half  dozen 
(litferent  routes,  each  having  its  own  attractions. 
You  might  go  right  up  to  the  head  of  the  big  basin 
tliat  stretched  away  eight  miles  or  more  beyond  the 
north  end  of  the  tnty,  and  there  land,  amid  the 
meadows  that  are  bordered  by  the  unbroken  forest,  or 
you  might  stop  half-way,  and  invade  the  old  estate 
that  had  once  been  proud  to  claim  a  prince  as  its  pos- 
sessor. 

Steering  in  the  opposite  direction,  you  might  go 
around  the  Point,  and  piercing  the  recesses  of  the  ever- 
beautiful  arm  of  the  sea,  find  a  perfect  picnic  ground  at 
its  farthest  bend  ;  or,  crossing  the  harbor,  there  were 
lovely  spots  to  be  secured  on  the  big,  tree-clad  island 
that  well-nigh  filled  the  harbor  mouth. 

Tiiis  year  it  had  been  decided  to  hold  the  picnic  at 
the  head  of  the  arm.  The  time  was  August,  just 
when  the  cool  sea  breeze,  and  the  balmv  breath  of  the 
pines  are  most  grateful  to  the  dwellers  in  cities.  To 
tiie  number  of  four  hundred,  or  more,  a  happy  crowd 
of  Sundav-school  scholars  and  teachers,  and  their 
friends  gathered  upon  the  broad  deck  of  the  clumsy 

T 


I 


i 

t'li 


290 


BERT  LLOYD  8  BOYHOOD. 


old  "  Mic-niac,"  an  excursion  steamer  that  had  done 
duty  on  this  line  for  a  generation,  at  least.  Eacli 
class  had  its  own  banner,  as  a  sort  of  rallying  point, 
and  tiiese,  with  the  pretty  dresses  and  briglit  ribbons 
of  tlje  girls,  imparteni  plenty  of  color  to  the  sjene, 
wiiile  the  boys  gave  life  to  it  by  being  incessantly  on 
the  move,  and  never  in  one  spot  for  more  than  one 
minute  at  a  time. 

Bert  and  Frank  were  in  the  midst  of  the  mcrrv 
crowd,  and  in  the  highest  spirits.  They  were  neither 
of  them  bv  anv  means  indifferent  to  the  fascination 
of  feminine  beauty  and  grace,  and  it  was  easy  to 
secure  the  most  delightful  companionship  on  board 
the  boat,  which  thev  did  not  fail  to  do.  Then  tliev 
had  the  games  and  sports  to  look  forward  to,  after  the 
picnic  ground  should  be  reached,  and  altogetiier 
their  cup  of  happiness  seemed  well-nigh  brimming 
over.  Thev  little  dreamed  how  ere  the  dav  closed 
they  would  both  be  brought  face  to  face  with  the 
deadliest  peril  of  their  lives. 

Joyous  with  music  and  laughter,  the  big  boat  pushed 
her  way  onward  over  the  white-capped  waves,  past 
the  fort  and  the  gas  works,  and  the  long  stretch  of  the 
Point  road  ;  and  then  giving  the  point  itself  a  wide 
berth, — for  the  shallows  extend  far  out, — around  it, 
and  up  the  winding  arm  with  its  line  of  stately  homes 
on  one  side,  and  scattered  clusters  of  white-washed 
cottages  on  the  other,  until  almost  at  its  very  end,  tlie 
landing  pla3e  was  reached,  and  the  gay  passengers 


BEBT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


291 


[mt  had  done 


gladly  deserted  tlie  stea  ner  to  seek  tlie  cool  shelter  of 
the  woo<ls. 

Tiiere  was  a  wonderful  ainotint  of  happiness  crowded 
into  tliat  day.  All  who  wanted  to  be  useful  found 
plenty  of  scope  for  tlieir  talents  iu  the  tran.«porting 
of  the  provisions,  the  arranging  of  the  tables,  the 
hanging  of  the  swings,  and  the  other  work  that  had 
to  be  done,  while  those  who  preferred  play  to  work, 
could  go  boating,  or  swimming,  or  play  ball,  and  so 
forth. 

The  two  friends  went  in  for  both  work  and  play. 
Tiiey  gave  very  efficient  help  to  the  ladies  in  preparing 
for  the  dinner,  but  they  did  not  miss  a  grand  swim  in 
the  cool  clear  water  of  a  sequestered  cove,  nor  an  ex- 
citing game  of  base  ball  in  the  open  field. 

After  dinner  came  the  sports,  consisting  of  compe- 
titions in  running,  jumping,  and  ball  throwing,  for 
which  prizes  in  the  shape  of  knives,  balls,  and  batd 
were  offered.  Bert  and  Frank  took  part  in  several  of 
them  with  satisfactory  results,  Frank  winning  a  fine 
knife  in  the  long  distance  race,  and  Bert  a  good  ball 
for  the  best  throw,  so  that  there  was  nothing  to  mar 
their  pleasure  in  this  regard. 

By  sunset  all  were  making  for  the  boat  again,  and 
in  the  soft  summer  gloaming  the  old  "  Mic-Mac" 
steamed  steadily  down  the  arm  on  her  homeward 
trip.  Many  of  the  children  were  weary  now,  and  in- 
(ilined  to  be  cross  and  sleepy.  Others  were  still  full 
of  life  and  spirits,  and  could  not  be  restrained  from 


292 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


chasing  one  another  up  and  down  the  deck  and  among 
the  benches.  But  tlieir  merriment  was  ere  long  sud- 
denly ended  by  an  event  wliich  came  near  casting  a 
dark  cioud  over  the  whole  day,  that  had  hitherto  been 
no  less  bright  with  happiness  than  with  sunshine. 

Bert  and  Frank  had  joined  a  group  of  charinintj 
girls  gathered  at  the  stern  of  the  steamer,  and  wliile 
pleasantly  employed  in  making  themselves  agreeable 
were  more  than  once  disturbed  bv  the  noisv  voun^sters, 
who  would  persist  in  playing  "chase." 

"  Some  of  you  will  be  falling  overboard  if  you  don't 
take  care,"  said  Bert,  warniagiy,  to  them.  ''  Why 
don't  you  keep  in  the  middle  of  tlie  steamer?" 

There  was  good  ground  for  Bert's  warning,  as, 
across  the  stern  of  the  old  steamer,  whir  a  had  been  a 
ferrv  boat  in  her  earlv  da  vs.  there  was  onlv  a  broad 
wooden  bar  placed  so  high  that  a  child  might  almost 
walk  under  it  Vv'ithout  stooping. 

But  the  careless  children  continued  their  play  as  the 
"Mic  Mac"  plouglied  her  way  back  to  the  city.  Pres- 
ently a  troop  of  them  came  racing  down  to  the  stern  in 
chase  of  a  golden-haired  sprite,  that  laugb'ngly  ran  be- 
fore them.  She  was  closelv  pursued  bv  a  bov  about  her 
own  age,  and  in  her  eagerness  to  escape  him  she  dodjjed 
underneath  the  bar  that  marked  the  line  of  safety. 
As  she  did  so,  the  steamer  gave  a  sudden  lurch  ;  and, 
poised  perilousl\  near  the  edge  as  the  girl  already 
was,  it  proved  too  much  for  her  balance.  She  uttered 
a  terrified  shriek,  grasped  vainly  at  the  bar  now  quite 


)0D. 

B  deck  and  among 
was  ere  long  sud- 
ne  near  casting  a 
had  hitlierto  been 
^ith  sunshine, 
•oup  of  charming 
teamer,  and  wliile 
mselves  agreeable 
J  noisv  vouni];sters, 

board  if  you  don't 
to  them.  '•  Why 
steamer  ?  " 
rt's  w.'irning,  as, 
whir  I  had  been  a 
was  onlv  a  broad 
did  might  almost 

d  their  play  as  the 
to  the  city.  Pres- 
)wn  to  the  stern  in 
laugb'ngly  ran  be- 
bv  a  bov  about  her 
pe  him  she  dodged 
the  line  of  safety. 
idden  lurch  ;  a.id, 
3  the  girl  already 
ince.  She  uttered 
the  bar  now  quit^ 


i;;: 


\    f,   .1  Jll  *1^p^ 


IIP!! 


i       ' 


*_ 


BERT  LLOYD H    BOYHOOD. 


293 


out  of  her  reach,  and,  to  the  horror  of  those  looking 
helplessly  on,  toppled  over  into  the  frothing,  foaming 
water  of  tiie  steamer's  wake. 

Instantly  there   was  wild  confusion  on   board  the 

If 

steamer.  Scream  after  scream  went  up  from  the 
women,  and  all  who  could  crowded  madly  toward 
the  stern.  If  the  girl  was  to  be  saved,  immediate 
action  was  necessary.  Bert  did  not  stop  to  think. 
He  could  swim  strongly  and  well.  He  would  attenipt 
her  rescue. 

"  Frank,  I'm  after  her,"  he  cried,  as  he  flung  off  his 
coat  and  hat. 

*'  I'm  with  you,"  answered  Frank,  imitating  his 
action  ;  and  before  any  one  else  had  thought  of  moving 
the  two  boys,  almost  side  by  side,  sprang  into  the  heav- 
iii<^  water  with  faces  set  toward  the  spot  where  a 
cloud  of  white  showed  them  tiie  little  girl  still  floated. 
Putting  forth  all  their  speed,  they  reached  her  ere  the 
buovuncv  had  left  her  clothing,  and  each  seizintj  an 
aim  of  the  poor  child,  who  had  just  fainted  through 
excess  of  fright,  they  prepared  to  battle  for  her  life  and 
their  own. 

They  realized  at  once  that  it  was  to  be  no  easy 
struggle.  The  steamer  had  been  going  at  full  speed, 
and  although  the  engines  were  reversed  at  the  tirst 
alarm,  the  impetus  of  her  awkward  bulk  had  carried 
her  far  away  from  the  spot  whore  the  girl  fell ;  and 
\\u\\  tlic  boys  could  just  barely  discern  her  through 
the  deepening  dusk.     The  harbor  had  been  rough  all 


aiia^;aii<. 


294 


BERT  LLOYDS   BOYHOOD. 


day,  and  the  waters  still  rolled  uneasily.  Fortunately, 
it  was  not  very  cold,  or  the  swimmers'  case  had  been 
well-nigh  hoixiless.  As  it  was,  the  only  chance  of 
their  deliverance  hung  upon  their  endurance.  If  thoir 
strength  held  out,  they  and  the  little  one  they  had 
put  themselves  in  peril  to  rescue  would  be  saved. 

She  continued  to  be  unconscious,  her  pretty  face, 
that  was  so  bright  and  rosy  a  few  minutes  before,  now 
looking  strangely  white  and  rigid,  and  her  golden 
curls  clinging  darkly  about  her  neck,  her  broad  straw 
hat,  all  water-soaked  and  limp,  hanging  over  on  one 
side. 

"  Surely  she  can't  be  dead  already  ? "  exclaimed 
Bert,  anxiously,  to  Frank,  as  the  two  boys  kept  her 
and  themselves  afloat  by  treading  water,  one  at  either 
arm.  • 

"No,"  replied  Frank,  "only  fainted.  But  if  the 
steamer  doesn't  come  soon,  she  will  be ;  and  so  will 
we  too." 

"  Never  fear,  Frank,  the  steamer  will  be  back  for 
us  soon.  I  think  I  can  hear  her  paddles  now,"  said 
Bert,  in  cheering  tones  ;  and  they  listened  intently  for 
a  moment,  but  heard  nothing  save  the  soft  lapping  of 
the  waves  all  around  them.     Then  Frank  spoke : 

"  Bert,"  he  asked,  "  are  you  afraid  to  die  ?  " 

Bert  started  at  the  question.  He  had  not  thought 
of  dying,  and  life  was  so  precious  to  him. 

"We're  not  going  to  die,  Frank.  God  will  take 
care  of  us,"  he  answered,  quickly. 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


295 


Fortunately, 
case  had  been 
ily  chance  of 
ince.  If  their 
one  they  had 
be  saved. 
3r  pretty  face, 
tes  before,  now 
id  her  golden 
er  broad  straw 


2:  over  on  one 


?''  exclaimed 
boys  kept  her 
r,  one  at  either 

1.     But  if  the 

e  ;  and  so  will 

.1  be  back  for 

lies  now,"  said 

led  intently  for 

5oft  lapping  of 

nk  spoke : 

)  die  ?  " 

ad  not  thought 

m. 

God  will  take 


"  Yes,  but  if  the  steamer  shouldn't  get  back  to  us 
in  time,  Bert,"  persisted  Frank,  who  seemed  to  be 
already  losing  hope,  "aren't  you  afraid  to  die?" 

"  I  don't  want  to,  but  I'm  not  afraid  to,"  Bert 
replied,  after  a  pause;  for  it  was  not  easy  to  talk 
when  every  exertion  had  to  be  put  forth  to  keep  above 
the  water. 

"  But,  Bert,  I  am  afraid,"  said  Frank,  with  a  groan. 
"  I've  been  so  wicked." 

"  No,  you  haven't,  Frank  ;  and  even  if  you  have, 
God  will  forgive  you  now.     Ask  him  right  away." 

"  Oh,  I  can't — it's  too  late ;  I  cannot  pray  now," 
cried  poor  Frank,  in  a  voice  that  sounded  like  a  wail 
of  despair. 

"  It's  not  too  late.  Come,  Frank  dear,  we'll  both 
pray  to  God  to  have  mercy  upon  us,"  urged  Bert; 
and  inspired  by  his  earnestness,  Frank  obeyed.  And 
there,  in  the  midst  of  the  waves,  with  their  senseless 
burden  between  them,  the  two  boys  lifted  up  their 
souls  in  supplication  to  their  Omnipotent  Father — 
Bert  with  the  conjfidence  that  came  of  past  experience, 
Frank  with  the  agonized  entreaty  of  one  praying  in 
sore  need,  and,  for  the  first  time,  with  the  wht)le 
heart.  A  strange  place  for  a  prayer  meeting,  indeed  ; 
but  they  were  as  near  the  great  heart  of  God  as  though 
they  had  been  in  his  grandest  cathedral,  and  the 
answer  to  their  earnest  pleading  was  already  on  its 
way. 

When  the  two  young  heroes  leaped  into  the  water, 


[T  » 


^^"^iw'^mmm 


i— i 


iiii, 


296 


BERT  LLOYD^S   BOYHOOD. 


there  had  at  first  been  great  confusion  on  board  the 
"  Mic-Mac,"  but  a  minute  or  two  later  the  captain's 
gruff  voice  was  lieard  roaring  out  orders.  The  pad- 
dles that  had  l)een  thrashing  the  waves  so  vigorously 
suddenly  stopped,  were  silent  for  a  moment,  and  tlicii 
recommenced ;  but  now  they  were  bearing  the  steamer 
backward,  instead  of  forward. 

"  Get  ready  the  boat  for  launching,"  thundered  the 
captain.     And  half  a  dozen  men  sprang  to  obey. 

'•  Light  a  couple  of  lanterns,"  he  shouted  again. 
And  in  an  instant  it  was  done. 

"lieeve  a  long  line  round  one  of  them  life  pro- 
servers,  and  stand  ready  foi*  a  throw,"  he  cried  to  the 
mate.  And  almost  before  he  had  finished  speaking 
the  mate  stood  ready. 

"  Now,  then,  clear  away  there  all  of  you,"  he 
growled  at  the  exciteci  crowd  that  pressed  toward  the 
stern,  and  they  fell  back,  -allowing  him  clear  space, 
while  he  swung  the  lantern  out  before  him,  and 
peered  into  the  dusk  that  obscured  his  view. 

"  Let  her  go  easy  now,"  he  shouted,  and  the 
steamer  moved  slowly  on,  a  profound  silence  falling 
upon  the  crowd  of  passengei*s  as  they  watched  with 
throbbing  eagerness  for  the  first  sign  of  the  imperiled 
ones  beins:  siorhted. 

Gazing  hard  into  the  gloom,  the  keen-eyed  captain 
,      ht  sight  of  a  gleam  of  white  upon  the  water. 

'  op  her ! "  he  roared,  with  a  voice  like  that  of  the 
^ .    '.     ind.     "  Hand  me  that  life  preserver ! " — turn- 


I 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


297 


ing 


0 


to  the  mate  who  stood  near  hira.  The  mate 
heyed,  and  coiling  the  long  rope  ready  for  a  throw 
the  captain  waited,  while  tlie  steamer  drew  nearer  to 
the  speck  of  white. 

''Look  out  there!"  he  cried  to  the  boys  in  the 
water.  "  Lay  hold  of  this."  And  swinging  the  big 
life  preserver  around  his  head  as  though  it  had  been  a 
mere  toy,  he  hurled  it  far  out  before  him,  where  the 
beams  of  light  from  the  lantern  showed  not  one  but 
three  white  objects  scarce  above  the  surface  of  the 
\\'ater. 

"  Look  sharp  now !  lay  hold  there!"  he  cried  again, 
and  then:  "All  right.  Keep  your  grip,  and  we'll 
have  you  in  a  minute."  Then  turning  to  those  behind 
him  :  "  Lower  that  boat— quick  ! " 

The  davits  creaked  and  groaned  as  the  ropes  spun 
through  the  blocks  ;  there  was  a  big  splash  when  the 
boat  struck  the  water,  a  few  fierce  strokes  of  the  oars, 
and  then  a  glad  shout  of,  "All  right;  we've  got 
them,"  in  response  to  which  cheer  upon  cheer  rang  out 
from  the  throng  above,  now  relieved  from  their  intense 
anxiety. 

A  few  minutes  later  three  dripping  forms  were  care- 
fully handed  up  the  side,  and  taken  into  the  warm 
engine  room,  the  little  girl  still  unconscious,  and  the 
l)oys  so  exhausted  as  to  be  not  far  from  the  same  con- 
dition. ^ 

Their  rescue  had  been  effected  just  in  time.  A 
little  more,  and  utterly  unable   to   keep  themselves 


tf  ' 


IP! 


l;M;!i!i!| 


I  If  '  ! 


298 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


afloat  any  longer,  they  would  have  sunk  beneath  tlie 
pitiless  waves. 

"  It  seemed  awful  to  have  to  die  that  way,"  said 
Bert,  when  telling  his  parents  about  it.  "  I  was  get- 
ting weaker  and  weaker  all  tlie  time,  and  so,  too,  was 
Frank,  and  I  thought  we'd  have  to  let  the  poor  little 
girl  go,  and  strike  out  for  ourselves.  But  we  kept 
praying  hard  to  God  to  help  us ;  and  then  all  of  a 
sudden  I  saw  a  light,  and  I  said  to  Frank,  '  There's 
the  steamer — hold  on  a  little  longer;'  and  then  I  could 
hear  the  sound  of  the  paddles,  and  the  next  thing 
the  captain  shouted  to  us  and  flung  us  a  life  preserver, 
and  we  got  a  good  grip  of  that,  and  held  on  until  the 
boat  took  us  all  in." 

The  heroic  action  of  the  two  boys  made  them 
famous  in  Halifax.  The  newspapers  printed  columns 
in  their  praise,  a  handsome  subscription  was  taken  up 
in  a  day  to  present  them  each  with  a  splendid  gold 
medal  commemorating  the  event;  important  person- 
ages, who  had  never  noticed  them  before,  stopped  them 
on  the  street  to  shake  hands  with  them,  and  what 
really  pleased  them  most  of  all,  Dr.  Johnston  gave 
the  school  a  holiday  in  their  honor,  having  just  deliv- 
ered an  address,  in  which,  with  flashing  eyes  and 
quivering  lips,  he  told  the  other  scholars  how  proud 
he  felt  of  Frank  and  Bert,  and  how  he  hoped  their 
schoolmates  would  show  the  same  noble  courage  if 
they  ever  had  a  like  opportunity. 

Tiie  parents  of  the  little  one  they  rescued  were 


BEIIT   LLOYDS    BOYHOOD. 


299 


k  beneath  the 


plain  people  of  limited  means,  but  they  could  not 
deny  themselves  tlie  luxury  of  manifesting  their  grati- 
tude in  some  tangible  form.  Accordingly,  they  had 
two  pictures  of  their  daughter  prepared,  and  placed 
in  pretty  frames,  bearing  the  expressive  inscriptiou, 
"  Rescued,"  with  the  date  beneath ;  and  the  mother 
herself  took  them  to  the  boys,  the  tears  that  bathed 
her  cheeks  as  she  presented  them  telling  far  better 
than  any  words  could  do  how  fervent  was  her  grati- 
tude. 

Deeply  as  Frank  had  been  moved  at  being  brought 
throng  his  own  generons  impulse  into  such  close 
quarl  vith  death,  the  excitement  and  bustle  of  the 
davs  immediatelv  following  the  event  so  filled  his 
mind  that  the  impression  bade  fair  to  pass  away  again, 
leaving  him  no  better  than  he  had  been  before.  But 
it  was  not  God's  purpose  that  this  should  be  the 
result.  Before  the  good  effects  of  that  brief  prayer 
meeting  in  the  water  were  entirely  dissipated,  another 
influence  came  to  their  support.  Although  he  knew 
it  not,  he  was  approaching  the  great  crisis  of  his  life, 
and  by  a  way  most  unexpected ;  he  was  shortly  to  be 
led  into  that  higher  plane  of  existence,  toward  which 
he  had  been  slowly  tending  through  the  years  of  his 
friendship  with  Bert. 


rescued  were 


ifr'mr""'*'' 


<,Vi    :. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW. 


iRIi 


i-'ti. 


A  DAY  or  two  after  the  rescue  Bert  begau  to  sliow 
signs  of  what  lie  took  to  be  simply  a  slight 
cold    ill   the  chest.     At  first  there  was  onlv  a  little 

m 

pain,  and  a  rather  bothersome  feeling  of  oppie^.sion, 
which  did  not  give  him  much  concern,  and  having 
applied  to  his  mother,  and  had  her  prescribe  for  him, 
he  assumed  that  it  was  the  natural  consequence  of  his 
sudden  plunge  into  the  cold  water,  and  would  soon 
pass  away.  But  instead  of  doing  so  the  pain  and 
oppression  increased,  and  the  family  doctor  had  to  be 
called  in  for  his  opinion.  Having  examined  the 
young  patient  carefully,  Dr.  Brown  decided  that  he 
was  threatened  with  an  attack  of  inflammation  of  the 
lungs,  and  that  the  best  thing  for  him  to  do  was  to  go 
right  to  bed,  and  stay  there  until  the  danger  was 
over. 

Here  was  a  new  experience  for  Bert.  He  had 
never  spent  a  day  in  bed  before,  his  only  previous 
sickness  having  been  a  siege  of  the  mumps,  and  they 
merely  made  him  a  prisoner  in  the  house  until  his 
face  regained  its  usual  size.  But  now  he  was  to  really 
go  upon  the  sick  list,  and  submit  to  be  treated  accord- 
ingly until  the  doctor  should  pronounce  him  well 
300 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


301 


egau  to  sliow 
iply  a  sliglit 

onlv  a  little 
f  oppression, 
,  and  having 
ribe  for  liim, 
:pience  of  his 

would  soon 
le  pain  and 
tor  had  to  be 
xainined  the 
ided  that  he 
lation  of  the 
do  was  to  go 

danger  was 

t.     He  had 

nly  previous 
ips,  and  they 
ise  until  his 
was  to  really 
}ated  accord- 
Be  him   well 


again.     He  did   not  like  the  idea  at  all.     Tj  what 

boy,  indeed,  would  it   have   been    welcome   in   that 

glorious   summer  weather  when   there  was  bliss  in 

merely  being  alive  and  well.     But  he  liad  too  much 

.sense  to  rebel.     He  knew  that  Dr.  Brown  was  no 

alarmist,  and  that  the  best  thing  to  do  was  to  obey 

his  injunctions  unquestioningly.     Moreover,  he  now 

began   to   feel   some   slight   anxiety    himselt*.      The 

trouble  in  his  chest  increased.     So  much  so,  indeed, 

that  he  found  difficulty  in  speaking  for  any  length  of 

time.     Symptoms  of  fever,  too,  appeared  ;  and  by  the 

close  of  another  day   no  doubt   remained    that   the 

attack  was  of  a  serious  nature,  and   that  the  utmost 

care   would     be    necessary    in    order   to   insure   his 

recovery. 

When  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lloyd  learned  this,  they  were 

sorely  distressed.  Such  perfect  health  had  their  sturdy 
boy  enjoyed  all  through  his  life  liitlicrto,  that  they 
could  hardly  realize  his  being  laid  upon  a  bed  of 
sickness,  and  it  seemed  especially  trying  just  after  he 
had  passed  safely  through  so  great  a  peril.  But  they 
did  not  murmur.  They  committed  Bert  to  the 
Divine  care,  and  with  countenances  full  of  cheer  for 
his  sake,  and  hearts  strengthened  from  above^  awaited 
the  revealing  of  the  Lord's  will. 

Day  by  day  Bert  grew  woi*se,  until  each  breath 
became  an  effort ;  and  the  fever  burned  all  through 
his  veins,  as  though  it  would  consume  him.  Fortu- 
nately, no  cloud  came  over  his  consciousness ;    and 


!l!  1 

iliii 


302 


BERT   J.LOYD's   BOYHOOD. 


although  ho  could  not  speak  without  a  painful  effort, 
and  therefore  .said  little,  his  grateful  looks  showed 
how  fully  he  appreciated  tiie  unremitting  care  with 
which  his  father  and  mother  and  Mary  watched  over 
him.  His  bedside  was  never  without  one  of  them ; 
and  tliere  was  yet  another  who  vied  with  them  in 
their  devotion — and  that  was  Frank.  Had  Bert  Ixm'h 
his  twin  brother  he  could  not  have  felt  more  concern. 
He  was  moved  to  the  very  depths  of  his  heart,  and 
with  tears  in  his  eyes  begged  of  Mr.  Lloyd  permis- 
sion to  take  turns  with  them  in  watching  by  the  bed- 
side through  the  long  hours  of  the  night.  He  was 
so  affectionate,  so  thouglitful,  so  gentle,  so  trustworthy, 
and  Bert  seemed  so  glad  to  have  him,  that  Mr.  I^loyd 
willingly  consented ;  and  thus  the  four  whom  Bt  rt 
loved  best  shared  the  burden  of  care  and  anxiety 
between  them. 

Bert  had  never  made  much  parade  of  his  religion. 
It  was  the  controlling  force  in  his  life,  yet  it  had  not 
been  in  any  way  obtrusive.  It  had  grown  with  iiis 
growth,  and  strengthened  with  his  expanding  strengtli ; 
and  although  there  had  of  course  been  niuny  slips  and 
falls — for  what  was  he  but  an  impuls've  boy?^ — there 
had  been  no  decline,  but  steadfast  progress  as  the 
years  of  his  boyhood  glided  past.  It  stood  him  in 
good  stead  when  death  waited  for  him  in  the  depths 
of  Halifax  harbor,  and  it  was  with  him  now,  as  hour 
by  hour  he  drew  nearer  the  dark  valley  of  the 
shadow. 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


303 


It  seemed  .stran<;e  for  the  Lloyd's  liorae,  which  Bert 
and  Maiy  had  brightened  \\  Ith  laui^hter  and  song,  to 
he  so  silent  now,  and  for  big  Dr.  Brown,  whose  visits 
previously  had  Ixjen  mainly  of  a  s(xjittl  nature,  to  bo 
cjilling  every  day,  with  a  serious  countenance  that 
betokened  his  concern.  Never  were  mother  and  sister 
more  devoted  and  untiring  than  Bert's.  Their  loving 
cire  anticipated  his  simplest  wants;  and  but  for  the 
(beadful  feeling  in  his  chest,  and  the  fever  that  gave 
him  no  relief,  the  novelty  of  Ixiing  thus  assiduously 
tcMideil  was  so  great,  that  he  would  hardly  have  minded 
l)('i ng  their  patient  for  a  little  while,  at  lea.st. 

It  was  an  uns{)eakable  comfort  to  them  all  that  his 
reason  continued  perfectly  clear,  no  matter  liow  liigh 
the  fever  raged  ;  and  not  only  his  reason,  but  his  faith 
Avas  clear  also.  He  did  not  despair  of  his  recovery, 
yet  he  shrank  not  from  looking  the  darker  alternative 
fairly  in  the  face,  and  preparing  to  meet  it.  His 
father's  strong,  serene  faith  was  a  wonderful  help  to 
him.  In  the  quiet  evening,  as  the  dusk  drew  on,  Mr. 
Lloyd  would  sit  beside  him,  and  taking  his  hot  hand 
in  his,  talk  with  him  tenderly,  repeating  Scriptuie 
passages  of  hope  and  comfort,  or  verses  from  the 
sacred  songs  they  both  loved. 

One  afternoon,  Frank  was  alone  with  him,  Mrs. 
Lloyd  and  Mary  having  gone  off  to  take  much  needed 
rest,  and  Bert  for  the  first  time  spoke  to  his  friend  of 
tlie  possibility  of  his  never  getting  well  again. 

"I  am  very   ill,  Frank  dear,"  said   he,  reaching 


■f^^pi 


304 


BERT   LLOYD'S   BOYHOOD. 


over  to  lay  his  burning  hand  upon  Frank's  knee,  as 
the  latter  sat  close  beside  his  bed.  "  I  may  never  be 
anv  better." 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  will ! "  returned  Frank,  cheerfully. 
"You'll  come  round  all  right." 

"  I  hope  so,  Frank,  but  sometimes  as  I  lie  here  in 
the  middle  of  the  nigiit,  it  seems  as  though  it  would 
soop  be  all  over  with  me." 

"Never  fear,  Bert,  you'll  live  to  be  an  old  man  yet, 
see  if  you  don't." 

Bert  was  silent  for  a  while  as  if  thinking  just  how 
he  would  say  something  that  was  on  his  mind.  Tiien 
turning  to  Frank,  and  looking  earnestly  into  his  face, 
he  asked : 

"  Frank,  do  you  love  Jesus  ?  " 

Frank  started  at  the  question,  the  blood  mounted 
to  his  forehead,  and  his  head  dropped.  He  seemed 
reluctant  to  reply,  and  it  was  some  time  before  he 
answered,  almost  in  a  whisper  : 

*'  I'm  afraid  I  don't,  Bert." 

A  look  of  sorrow  came  over  Bert's  countenance,  but 
was  quickly  dissipated  by  one  of  hope,  and  despite  tlie 
pain  '.  e  utterance  of  every  word  gave  him  he  took 
Frank's  hand  between  both  of  his,  and  pressing  it 
affectionately,  said : 

"Dear, dear  Frank,  you  will  love  him,  won't  you?" 

Frank's  sturdy  frame  trembled  with  the  emotion  lie 
strove  hard  to  suppress  ;  his  lips  quivered  so  that  lie 
could   not  have  spoken  if  he  would,  and  at  length, 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


305 


IS  I  lie  here  in 


in  old  man  yet, 


unable  to  control  himself  any  longer,  he  fell  on  his 
knees  at  the  bedside,  and  burying  his  face  in  his  hands 
b'.irst  into  tears. 

Tlie  ineffable  glory  of  the  sun  setting  into  the 
golden  haze  of  the  west  filled  the  room,  and  enfolded 
tlie  figures  of  the  two  boys,  the  one  kneeling  at  the 
bedside,  and  the  other  with  eyes  lifted  heavei^ward, 
and  lips  moving  in  earnest  prayer,  touching  softly  tlie 
brown  curls  half  burled  in  the  bed  beside  him.  For 
some  minutes  there  was  a  solemn  silence.  Tiien  Bert 
si)oke : 

"Frank,  Frank,"  he  called,  gently,  -    "•  '  r 

Frank  lifted  his  tear-stained  face. 

"  Won't  vou  besjin  to  love  him  now  ?  "  Bert  asked. 
"If  God  should  take  me  away,  I  could  not  be  happy 
unless  I  felt  sure  that  you  would  meet  me  above. 
We've  been  such  friends,  Frank,  and  you've  been  so 
good  to  me  always." 

Frank's  tears  flowed  afresh.  It  was  not  the  first 
time  that  the  question  of  surrender  to  Christ  had  pre- 
sented itself  to  him.  He  had  debated  it  with  himself 
ov^er  and  over  again,  and  always  with  the  same  result, 
concluding  to  remain  undecided  a  little  longer.  But 
now  the  time  for  indecision  seemed  altogether  passed. 
The  Christ  himself  seemed  present  in  that  room 
awaiting  an  answer  to  the  question  he  had  inspired 
Bert  to  put.  Never  in  all  hi«  life  before  had  the 
issue  between  God  and  himself  appeared  so  inevitable. 
He  had  evaded  it  more  than  once,  but  a  decision  could 


i  ; 


306 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


'.'■1- 

.'5 


(|i 


no  longer  be  delayed.  No  sooner  did  he  see  tin's 
clearly  than  the  powers  of  the  strong  deep  nature 
asserted  itself.  Brushing  aside  his  tears,  and  looking 
right  into  Bert's  expectant  eyes,  he  seized  both  his 
hands,  and  with  a  countenance  almost  glorified  by  the 
expression  of  lofty  purpose  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun 
revealed  upon  it,  said,  in  clear,  firm  tones : 

"Yes,  Bert,  I  will  love  Jesus,  and  I  will  begin 
right  away." 

"  Oh,  Frank,  I'm  so  happy ! "  murmured  Bert,  as  he 
fell  back  on  his  pillow,  for  the  stress  of  emotion  had 
told  hard  upon  him  in  his  weak  state,  and  he  felt  ex- 
hausted. He  lay  there  quietly  with  his  eyes  closed 
for  a  while,  and  then  sank  into  a  gentle  slumber,  and 
before  he  awoke  again  Mrs.  Lloyd  had  come  into  the 
room  so  that  their  conversation  could  not  be  resumed 
before  Frank  went  away. 

The  next  day  Bert  was-  decidedly  worse.  The  suf- 
fering in  his  chest  increased  until  he  could  hardly 
speak.  With  great  difficulty  he  could  get  out  a  word 
at  a  time,  and  that  was  all.  The  fever  showed  no 
signs  of  abating,  and  he  tossed  upon  his  bed  hour 
after  hour,  while  with  ice  and  fan  and  cooling  applica- 
tions Mrs,  Lloyd  and  Mary  strove  hard  to  give  him  ease. 

Dr.  Brown  made  no  attempt  to  conceal  his  anxiety. 

"  The  crisis  is  near  at  hand,"  he  said.  "  There  is 
nothing  more  that  I  can  do  for  him.  He  has  reached 
a  point  where  your  prayers  can  do  more  for  him  than 
my  poor  medicines." 


I'flSlllnl^Riilffi' 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


307 


Although  her  heart  was  torn  with  anguish  unspeaka- 
ble, Mrs.  Lloyd's  fortitude-  never  for  a  moment  fal- 
tered. So  serene  was  her  bearing  in  the  sick  chamber 
that  Mary,  from  whom  the  gravity  of  her  brother's 
case  had  been  so  far  as  possible  concealed,  had  yet  no 
thought  but  that  he  would  infallibly  win  his  way  back 
to  health. 

As  he  grew  weaker  and  his  sufferings  more  intense, 
Bert  evidently  felt  easiest  when  all  three  of  his  own 
liousehold  were  with  him  at  once,  and  when  Frank 
was  there  also,  his  satisfaction  seemed  complete. 
He  spoke  but  little,  and  then  only  a  word  or  two  at  a 
time.  Dr.  Chrystiil  came  to  see  him  frequently,  and 
was  always  greeted  with  a  glad  smile  of  welcome. 
Taking  the  Bible,  he  would,  in  his  rich  mellow  voice, 
road  some  comforting  passage,  and  then  pray  witii 
deep  trustful  earnestness,,  inspiring  and  strengthening 
the  anxious  watchers,  and  leaving  behind  him  an 
arinospiiore  of  peace. 

Oil  Friday  night  the  crisis  came.  After  tossing 
aud  tumbling  about  feverishly  all  day,  as  the  evening 
sliadows  fell,  Bert  sank  into  a  deep  stupor,  and  Dr. 
Brown,  with  a  lump  in  his  throat  that  almost  choked 
liis  utterance,  said  plainly  that  unless  he  rallied  before 
morning  there  would  be  no  further  hope.  In  an 
agony  of  prayer  Mrs.  Lloyd  knelt  by  her  darling's 
bedside,  while  in  an  adjcjining  room  Mr.  Lloyd  and 
Mary  and  Dr.  Chrystal  and  Frank  sat  together, 
praying  and   waiting,  and  striving  to  comfort   one 


308 


BERT  LLOYD^S   BOYHOOD. 


another.  The  long  hours  of  agonizing  uncertainty 
dragged  slowly  by.  Every  few  minutes  some  one 
would  steal  on  tip-toe  to  the  sick  chamber,  and  on 
their  return  meet  fond  faces  full  of  eager  questioning 
awaiting  them,  only  to  answer  with  a  sad  shake  of  the 
head  that  meant  no  ray  of  hope  yet. 

At  length  the  dawn  began  to  flush  the  east,  and 
with  crimson  radiance  light  up  the  great  unmeasured 
dome,  putting  out  tiie  stars  that  had  shone  as  watch 
fires  throughout  tiie  night.  Mrs.  Lloyd  had  risen 
from  her  knees,  and  was  sitting  close  beside  the  bed, 
watching  every  breath  that  Bert  drew;  for  who  could 
say  which  one  would  be  tiie  last?  The  daylight  stole 
swiftly  into  the  room,  making  the  night  light  no 
longer  necessary,  and  she  moved  softly  to  put  it  out. 
As  she  returned  to  her  post,  and  stood  for  a  moment 
gazing  with  an  unutterable  tenderness  at  the  beloved 
face  lying  so  still  upon  the  pillow,  a  thrill  of  joy  shot 
through  lier,  for  a  change  seemed  to  haVe  taken  place  : 
the  flushed  features  had  assumed  a  more  natural  hue, 
and  the  breath  came  more  easily.  Scarcely  daring  to 
hope,  she  stood  as  if  entranced.  Presently  a  tremor 
ran  through  Bert's  frame,  he  stirred  uneasily,  sighed 
heavily,  and  then,  as  naturally  as  a  babe  awaking, 
opened  wide  his  big  brown  eyes. 

Seeing  his  mother  just  before  him,  he  gave  a  glad 
smile,  lifted  up  his  hands  as  though  to  embrace  her, 
and  said,  without  any  apparent  difficulty : 

"  You  dear,  darling  mother." 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


309 


Completely  overcome  with  jov,  Mrs.  Lloyd  threw 
herself  down  beside  iier  boy  and  kissed  him  passion- 
ately, exclaiming :  "Thank  God!  Thank  God  !  He's 
saved;"  and  then,  springing  up,  hastened  out  to  tell  the 
others  the  good  news. 

Dr.  Brown,  who  had  been  resting  in  the  study,  was 
instantly  summoned,  and  the  moment  he  saw  Bert  his 
face  became  radiant.  Turning  to  Mrs.  Lloyd,  he 
shook  her  hand  warmly,  saying  : 

"  The  worst  is  over.  He'll  come  round  all  ri^ht 
now,  and  you  may  thank  your  prayers,  madam,  and 
not  my  medicines.'* 

Great  was  the  rejoicing  in  the  Lloyd  household. 
No  words  would  express  their  gladness ;  and  when 
school-time  came  Frank,  utterly  unable  to  contain 
himself,  rushed  off  to  Dr.  Johnston's,  and  astonished 
the  assembled  pupils  by  shouting  at  the  top  of  his 
voice : 

"Hurrah,  boys!  Bert's  not  going  to  die.  He'll 
soon  be  well  again."  i 


■i 
I 

III 

i 

I 
I 

I 


I 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

HOME   MISSIONARY    WORK. 

BERT'S  recovery  was  as  rapid  as  his  illness  had 
beeu  sudden  nnd  severe.  A.  fortnight  after  that 
memorable  Dion^iug,  "'hen  with  the  dawn  came  de- 
liverance, he  was  aa,  \  ii:;orou3  and  livelv  as  ever.  Ho 
found  the  davs  of  his  f;onvalescence  not  at  all  uii- 
pleasant.  When  the  pain  had  passed,  the  long  hours 
of  suffer'  jg  seemed  like  a  dreadful  dream,  and  the 
present,  with  its  sweet  relief  and  increasing  strengiii, 
a  blissful  awaking.  At  his  home  all  was  joy  aiul 
brightness:  there  were  silence  and  anxiety  uo  longer. 
Mrs.  Llovd  and  Marv  went  siuii-ing  from  room  to 
room,  Mr.  Lloyd  came  back  from  his  office  whistling 
merrily,  and  sure  to  be  ready  with  something  to  make 
Bert  laugh.  Frank  ran  in  and  out,  the  very  type  of 
joyous  boyhood,  and  each  day  brought  its  stream  of 
callers,  with  warm  congratulations  upon  Bert's  happy 
restoration  to  health. 

It  would  be  a  queer  boy  that  would  not  enjoy  this, 
seeing  that  it  all  centered  upon  him,  and  Bert  fully 
appreciated  the  important  position  he  held  for  the  time 
beiuij,  Tiien  what  could  be  more  delii^htfu!  than  the 
sense  of  returning  strength,  of  enlarging  activity? — 
to  find  oneself  with  a  clearer  head,  a  sharper  appetite, 

310 


BERT  LLOYD  S   BOYHOOD. 


311 


his  illness  had 
light  after  tliat 
awu  came  de- 
y  as  ever.  He 
not  at  all  uii- 
the  Jong  hours 
Ireara,  and  tlie 
asing  strengtii, 
1  was  joy  and 
ietv  no  lon<rer. 

from  room  to 
)ffice  wiiistlinsr 
lething  to  make 
e  very  type  of 

its  stream  of 
n  Bert's  happy 

not  enjoy  tliis, 
uid  Bert'  fully 
aid  for  the  time 
^Iitfu!  than  the 
nir  activity? — 
mrper  appetite, 


and  a  more  vigorous  frame,  as  one  glorious  summer 
day  succeeded  another ;  while  the  birds  sang  blithely 
in  the  apple  tree,  and  the  blue  waters  of  the  ever- 
beautiful  harbor  rippled  gently  before  the  morning 
zephyrs,  or  were  stirred  into  white  caps  by  the  after- 
noon breeze? 

Bert's  illness  left  no  trace  behind  so  far  as  his 
physical  nature  was  concerned,  and  yet  he  was  not 
altogether  the  same  boy  as  before  it  laid  him  low. 
Deep  solemn  thoughts  had  been  his  as  he  lay  upon 
his  bed,  not  knowing  whether  he  should  ever  rise 
from  it  again.  His  life  had  been  in  many  respects  a 
more  than  ordinarily  blameless  one,  and  yet  when  he 
had  little  else  to  do  save  look  back  upon  it,  an  almost 
overwhelming  sense  of  his  worthlessness  came  upon 
him,  and  he  was  filled  with  wonder  that  God  could 
love  him  at  all. 

But  that  he  did  love  him,  and  for  his  Son's  sake 
had  accepted  him,  he  never  for  a  moment  doubted. 
Now  that  he  was  restored  to  health  and  strenirth,  he 
did  not  seek  to  forget  those  feelings,  nor  would  he 
allow  his  convictions  of  great  obligations  Godward  to 
lead  him  nowhere.  He  resolved  to  do  some  definite 
work  for  his  divine  Master,  and  to  seize  the  first  oppor- 
tunity that  presented  it.s(.'lf. 

His  friendship  with  Frank  passed  into  a  deeper, 
stronger  ])hase  than  ever  before.  It  might  with  much 
truth  have  been  said  of  them  as  it  was  of  two  friends 
of  old,  that  the  soul  of  Bert  was  knit  with  the  soul  of 


W: 


m 


312 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


Frank,  and  that  Bert  loved  him  as  his  own  soul. 
They  had  so  much  in  common  now,  and  they  found 
it  so  delightful  to  strengthen  one  another's  hands  iu 
the  Lord  by  talking  together  of  his  goodness. 

There  was  one  matter  that  troubled  Frank  deeply, 
and  tliat  formed  the  subject  of  many  a  long  and 
earnest  conversation.  His  father  was  a  man  about 
whose  lack  of  religion  there  could  be  no  doubt.  He 
was  a  big,  l^Iuff,  and  ratlier  coarse-grained  man,  not 
over-scrupulous  in  business,  but  upon  the  whole  as 
honest  and  trustworthy  as  the  bulk  of  humanity.  By 
dint  of  sheer  hard  work  and  shrewdness  he  had  risen 
to  a  position  of  wealth  and  importance,  and,  as  self- 
made  men  are  apt  to  do,  laid  much  more  stress  upon 
what  he  owed  to  himself  than  upon  what  he  owed  to 
his  Creator.  In  his  own  rou^li  wav,  that  is  to  sav  in 
somewhat  the  same  fashion  as  we  may  suppose  a  Hon 
loves  his  whelp,  he  loved  the  only  child  the  wife  long 
since  dead  had  left  him.  He  was  determined  that  he 
should  lack  nothing  that  was  worth  having,  and  iu 
nothing  did  Mr.  Bowser  show  his  shrewdness  more 
clearly  tiian  in  fully  appreciating  the  advantage  it  was 
to  Frank  to  be  the  chosen  friend  and  constant  com- 
panion of  Lawyer  Lloyd's  son.  He  had  manifested  his 
satisfaction  at  the  intimacy  by  having  Frank  make 
Bert  handsome  presents  at  Ciiristmas  time,  and  iu 
other  wavs.  In  all  this,  however,  his  onlv  thouoflit 
had  been  for  Frank.  He  made  no  attempt  to  culti- 
vate intimate  relations  with  the  Lloyds  on  his  own 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


313 


Ills  own  soul, 
id  they  found 
ler's  hauds  iu 
Iness. 
^rank  deeply, 

a  loug  and 
a  man  about 
>  doubt.  He 
ued  mau,  not 
the  whole  as 
imanity.  By 
I  he  had  risen 
,  aud,  as  self- 
.'e  stress  upon 
at  he  owed  to 
it  is  to  say  in 
uppose  a  lion 
the  wife  lonir 
iiined  that  lie 
ving,  and  iu 
wdness  more 
antage  it  was 
onstant  coni- 
lanifested  his 
f'rank  make 
ime,  and  in 
>nlv  thousrlit 
mpt  to  culti- 

011  his  own 


account.  He  thought  them  both  too  refined  and  too 
religious  for  him,  aud  accordingly  declined,  so  far  as 
he  civilly  could  Mr.  Lloyd's  overtures  toward  a  better 
acquaintance. 

Such  a  man  was  Frank's  father ;  and  now  that  the 
boy's  heart  was  full  of  joy  and  light,  because  the 
peace  that  passeth  understanding  was  his,  he  longed 
that  his  father  should  share  the  same  happy  experi- 
ence. 

"  If  father  were  only  a  Christian,  like  your  father, 
Bert,  I  would  be  the  happiest  boy  in  all  the  world," 
gaid  he,  one  day.  "  Oh.  Bert,  what  can  I  do  to  make 
him  interested  in  religion  ?  " 

"  Why  don't  you  ask  Dr.  Chrystal  to  go  and  talk 
with  him?''  inquired  Bert. 

"  It  wouldn't  be  a  bit  of  use.  He  won't  go  to 
church  to  hear  Dr.  Chrystal,  nor  any  other  minister, 
and  he  wouldn't  listen  to  them  if  they  came  to  see 
him.     He  says  he  has  no  faith  in  parsons,  anyway." 

"  Well,  do  you  think  he  would  listen  to  fathei'  ?  " 
suggested  Bert. 

Frank's  face  lighted  up.  He  had  been  thinking  of 
this  himf-elf. 

"  Perhaps  he  would,  Bert,"  he  said,  eagerly.  "  I 
know  he  thinks  a  great  deal  of  your  father.  I've 
heard  him  say  that  he  practiced  better  than  many  of 
the  parsons  preached." 

Bert  flushed  with  pleasure  at  this  frank  compli- 
ment to  his  father. 


1^ 


ill 


314 


BERT  I.LOYi>  S   BOYHOOD. 


"Then  suppose  we  ask  him  to  speak  to  your  fatlier 
about  religion,"  he  said. 

"  0h,  yes ;  let  us,"  assented  Frank.  Accordingly, 
that  evening  the  two  boys  brought  the  matter  before 
Mr.  Lloyd,  who  listened  to  them  very  attentively. 
Then  he  asked  a  question  or  two. 

"  Are  you  quite  sure,  Frank,  that  I  am  the  very 
best  person  to  speak  to  your  father  on  this  important 
subject  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Mr.  liloyd  ;  Fm  quite  sure  you  are." 

"  Well,  do  you  know,  Frank,  I  don't  agree  with 
you.  I  think  I  know  of  somebody  that  can  do  it 
much  better  than  I  can,"  said  Mr.  Lloyd,  with  a  mean- 
ing smile. 

Frank's  face  fell.  He  had  set  his  heart  upon  having 
Mr.  Lloyd  do  it,  and  could  not  believe  that  anybody 
else  would  do  as  well.    After  a  little  pause,  he  asked  : 

*•'  Who  is  this  somebody  else,  Mr.  Lloyd  ?  " 

"  He's  not  very  far  away  from  us  now,  Frank," 
answered  Mr.  Lloyd,  still  with  that  curious  smile. 

"You  don't  mean  Bert,  do  you?"  cried  Frank, 
lookinsr  a  little  bewildered. 

"  No ;  I  don't  mean  Bert,"  responded  Mr.  Lloyd. 

"  Then "    He    stopped     short,   a   deep    blush 

spread  over  his  features;  he  caught  his  breath,  and 
then,  as  if  hoping  that  the  answer  would  be  in  tiie 
negative,  exclaimed  : 

"Do  vou  mean  me.^" 

"  Yes,  I  do  mean  just  you ;  and  nobody  else,  Frank." 


BERT   LLOYD6  BOYHOOD. 


315 


to  your  father 

Accord  incjlv, 
J  matter  before 
•y  attentivelv. 

am  the  very 
:his  important 

11  are." 

I't  agree  with 
lat  can  do  it 
with  a  meau- 

X  upon  having 
that  anybody 
ise,  he  aslved : 
yd?" 

low,  Frank," 
ous  smile, 
cried  Frank, 

\  Mr.  Lloyd. 

deep    blush 

5  breati),  and 

Id  be  in  tiie 


alse,  Frank." 


Frank   threw  himself  back   in   his  chair  with   a 
despairing,  gesture,  saying : 

"  Oil,  I  could  never  do  it,  Mr.  Lloyd.     I  know  I 
never  could." 

Mr.  Lloyd  looked  at  him  with  tender  sympathy, 
and  laying  his  hand  upon  his  knee,  said,  gently : 

"  Do  you  remember  the  motto,  Frank.  '  Quit  you 
like  men,  be  strong  ^  ?  " 

Frank  heaved  a  heavy  sigh.  "  But  how  can  I  go 
about  it,  Mr.  Lloyd  ?  "  he  asked. 

Mr.  Lloyd  thought  a  moment. 

"  I  have  an  idea,  Frank,"  he  said,  presently.  "  Sup- 
pose you  were  to  start  family  prayer  in  the  mornings.  I 
believe  it  would  be  the  means  of  doing  your  fathergood." 

At  first  Frank  could  not  be  persuaded  that  such  a 
thing  was  possible  as  his  presuming  to  conduct  family 
prayer  in  his  father's  presence,  but  they  talked  long 
and  earnestly  about  it,  and  finally  he  went  away 
promising  to  think  it  over  very  seriously. 

As  he  turned  the  matter  over  in  his  mind,  however, 
little  bv  little  his  courag-e  strengthened  until  at  lenii!:th 
he  felt  himself  equal  to  the  undertaking.  It  was  a 
Sunday  morning  that  he  chose  upon  which  to  make 
the  verture.  So  soon  as  breakfast  was  finished,  and 
his  father  had  moved  away  from  the  table,  wishing 
to  himself  that  there  was  a  paper  published  on  Sun- 
days as  well  as  upon  other  days,  for  he  had  time  to 
read  it  comfortably,  Frank  took  up  his  Bible,  and 
said,  very  hesitatingly : 


ill! 
ill 


9B 

^ 

1; 
i 
J 

■ 

! 

■  1 

i! 

I 

¥ 


316 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


"  Father,  do  you  mind  if  we  have  family  prayers?" 

"Eh!  What's  that?  Wiiat  do  you  mean?" 
asked  Mr.  Bowser,  looking  up  as  if  he  could  hardly 
believe  his  ears. 

"  Why,  father,"  answered  Frank,  timidly,  "  you 
know  they  have  prayers  at  Mr.  Lloyd's  every  morn- 
ing, and  I  thought  perhaps  you  wouldn't  mind  our 
having  them,  too." 

Mr.  Bowser  scanned  his  son's  face  with  a  hard 
searching  gaze,  but  Frank  looked  back  at  him  with 
so  much  love  and  respect  in  his  clear  brown  eyes,  that 
all  suspicion  was  banished  from  his  mind,  and  his 
heart  melted  not  a  little. 

"Who's  going  to  have  the  prayers?  You  don't 
expect  me  to,  do  you  ?  "  he  asked,  gruffly. 

"  Well,  father,  if  you  don't  care  to,  I'll  try,  if 
you've  no  objei^tion,"  replied  Frank,  modastly. 

Mr.  Bowser  was  silent  for  a  moment.  He  had 
noted  a  change  in  Frank  of  late,  and  had  been  im- 
pressed by  tiie  increased  interest  he  took  in  church 
and  Sunday-school  as  proven  by  the  regularity  and 
punctuality  of  his  going  off  to  the  services.  Had 
Frank  become  a  Christian  like  Mr.  Lloyd?  He 
would  not  be  sorry  if  he  had,  although  it  was  rather  a 
pity  that  he  had  not  waited  until  he  had  had  his  fling 
first,  sowed  a  few  wild  oats,  seen  something  of  the 
world,  and  then  settled  down.  Here  was  a  good 
chance  to  find  out.  So  with  some  relaxing  of  his 
gruffncss,  Mr.  Bowser  said : 


BERT  LLOYD'S   BOYHOOD. 


317 


"All  right,  my  boy.  I've  no  objections  so  long  as 
you're  not  too  long-winded.     Go  ahead." 

'^^'"is  encouraged,  Frank,  with  beating  heart  and 
tr.  -filing  lips,  proceeded  to  read  one  of  the  Psalms; 
and  then,  kneeling  down,  offered  up  a  simple,  fervent, 
faith-filled  prayer. 

Mr.  Bowser  did  not  kneel.  He  sat  sturdily  up- 
rii'ht  in  his  chair,  looking  straight  before  him.  But 
he  )uld  not  prevent  strange  emotions  awaking  within 
him  as  he  heard  his  boy,  whom  he  was  still  inclined 
to  I  ok  upon  as  hardly  more  than  a  child,  though  he 
was  low  sixteen  years  of  age,  address  himself  in  rev- 
eren.,  earnest  tones  to  the  Great  Being  that  he  had  so 
uf'    'y  neglected  himself. 

.en  Frank  had  finished  his  father  rose,  and  left 
tl''  room  without  saying  a  word.  That  ev(Miing 
FrauK  wiH;!'  tea  with  Bert,  and  they  went  to  church 
together.  Shortly  iiit  the  service  began  Bert  hap- 
i)ened  to  glance  about  the  church,  and  his  eye  fell 
upon  somebody  that  caused  him  to  give  a  little  start 
of  surprise,  and  then  nudge  Frank  violently.  On 
Frank's  turning  round  to  see  what  Bert  meant,  he  too 
started,  and  an  expression  of  joy  that  was  beautiful  to 
witness  came  over  his  countenance,  for  there,  in  a  pew 
not  far  behind  him,  and  evidently  trying  hard  to  look 
entirely  at  his  ease,  sat  Mr.  Bowser,  this  being  his  firet 
appearance  in  church  for  many  long  years. 

Dr.  Chrystal  preached  one  of  his  very  best  sermons 
that  night,  and  all  the  time  he  was  speaking  Frank 


il!^ 


^m^m^mj^mtm 


^ll 


318 


BERT  LLOYD^S   BOYHOOD. 


was  praying  that  his  earnest  words  might  go  straight 
home  to  i\is  father's  heart.  That  was  the  beginning 
of  the  good  work.  Thenceforward  every  Sunday 
evening  found  Mr.  Bowser  an  attentive  listener ;  and 
Frank,  continuing  the  morning  prayers  faithfully,  was 
surprised  and  delighted  when  one  day  his  father 
brought  home  the  finest  family  Bible  he  could  find  in 
the  city,  and  handing  it  to  him,  said,  in  his  kindest 
manner : 

"Here,  my  boy,  if  we're  going  to  have  family 
prayers,  we  may  just  as  well  do  it  in  proper  style." 

Frank  joyfully  reported  all  this  to  the  Lloyds,  who 
rejoiced  with  him  over  the  prospect  there  was  of  his 
prayers  for  his  father  being  fully  answered  ere  long, 
and  Mr.  Lloyd  was  therefore  not  at  all  surprised  when 
one  evening  Mr.  Bowser  called,  and  in  an  agitated, 
confused  way  begged  the  favor  of  an  interview  with 
him  in  the  privacy  of  his  study. 

It  was  as  Mr.  Lloyd  anticipated.  Frank's  simple, 
but  sincere  efforts  at  home  missionary  work  had  been 
crowned  with  success.  His  father's  hard,  worldly 
nature  had  been  stirred  to  its  depths.  A  longing  the 
world  could  not  appease  had  been  awakened  within 
him,  and  he  had  come  to  •.  Lloyd  as  one  in  whom 
he  placed  implicit  confi  jnce,  that  he  might  guide 
him  toward  the  light.  The  conversation,  which  Mr. 
Bowser  found  wonderfully  helpful  to  him  in  his  be- 
wildered, anxious  state  of  mind,  was  followed  by 
many  others,  and  the  result  was  made  evident  when, 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhoop. 


319 


ere  that  year  closed,  Mr.  Bowser  publicly  united 
hiiuself  with  the  church;  and  there  were  few  wlio 
were  familiar  with  the  circumstances  that  could  re- 
strain a  tear  of  sympathetic  joy  when  Dr.  Chrystal 
made  the  event  the  occasion  for  a  beautiful  and  in- 
spiring sermon  upon  the  place  of  the  young  in  the 
vineyard  of  the  Lord. 


SM,    .    ^ 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 


NOT   DEAD,   BUT  TRANSLATED. 


l|||l 


MR.  BOWSER  was  not  a  man  to  do  anything  by 
halves.  When  he  was  worldly,  he  was  worldly 
out  and  out,  and  now  that  he  had  broken  with  tlie 
world  and  entered  into  the  service  of  God,  he  took  up 
the  business  of  religion  witii  a  thoroughness  and  ardor 
that  was  entirelv  characteristic.  He  found  himself 
woefully  ignorant  of  the  simplest  scrip<^ure  truths. 
Until  his  conversion,  he  had  not  opened  his  Bible  since 
he  left  his  mother's  care.  He  therefore  determined  to 
become  a  scholar.     So  one  Saturday,  he  asked  Frank : 

"  Frank,  what  is  it  vou  do  at  Suudav-school?" 

"  Well,  father,  we  sing,  and  pray,  and  study  the 
Bible,  that's  about  all,"  answered  Frank,  wondering 
to  himself  what  his  father  had  iu  mind. 

**Do  any  grown-up  people  go  there,  Frank?"  in- 
quired Mr.  Bowser,  innocently. 

Frank  smiled,  partly  at  his  father's  lack  of  knowl- 
edge, and  partly  because  he  thought  he  caught  a 
glimpse  of  his  purpose. 

"  Why,  of  course,  father,"  he  exclaimed,  "  lots  of 
them.  Mr.  Lloyd  goes  there,  and  Mr.  Silver,  and 
ten  or  twelve  other  gentlemen." 

"Does  Mr.  Lloyd  go  to  Sunday-school?"  asked 
820 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


321 


Frauk?"  lu- 


lled, "  lots  of 


Mr.  Bowser,  eagerly.  "Why,  what  does  he  do 
there?" 

"  He  teaches,  father.  He  has  charge  of  the  men's 
Bible  class." 

"So  Mr.  Lloyd  has  a  Bible  class  there,"  mused  Mr. 
Bowser  aloud ;  then,  turning  again  to  Frank,  "  Do 
you  think,  Frank,  he  would  mind  if  I  joined  it." 

Frank  could  not  help  smiling  at  the  idea  of  Mr. 
Lloyd  being  otherwise  than  glad  at  having  a  new 
member  in  his  class. 

"Indeed,  he  won't.  On  the  contrary,  he'll  be 
mighty  glad,  I'm  sure,"  he  answered,  warmly. 

"'  Very  well,  then,  Frank,  I'll  go  with  you  to  Sun- 
dav-school  to-morrow.  I  don't  know  anvthing  about 
tlie  Bible,  and  I  think  there's  no  better  place  for  me 
to  learn,"  said  Mr.  Bowser,  as  he  went  off  leaving 
Frank  so  happy  at  the  prospect  of  having  his  father 
go  to  school  with  him  that  he  could  hardly  contain 
liimself.  -     f         -  ■     ( 

Very  deep  was  Mr.  Lloyd's  pleasure  when  on  Sun- 
day afternoon  burly  Mr.  Bowser  walked  into  his 
class  room  and  took  his  seat  in  the  most  remote  cor- 
ner. He  went  up  to  him  at  once,  and  gave  him  a 
cordial  greeting. 

"I've  come  as  a  learner,  Mr.  Lloyd,"  said  Mr. 
Bowser.  "  I  know  little  or  nothing  about  the  Bible, 
and  I  want  you  to  teach  me." 

"  I  am  sure  I  shall  be  most  happy  to  do  anything 
that  lies  in  my  power,  Mr.  Bowser,"  responded  Mr. 

V 


l:::' 


I  Mi;:' 


;^^'T^ipr^^PiW^P 


■  k 


322 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


I;;:| 


Lloyd,  lieartily,  "  and  there  are  others  in  the  class  that 
you  will  find  will  help  you  also." 

And  so  Mr.  Bowser,  putting  aside  all  foolish  notions 
about  pride  or  self-importance,  became  one  of  the 
most  faithful  and  attentive  attendants  of  the  Bible 
class.  Rain  or  shine,  the  whole  year  round,  his  chair 
was  rarely  vacant,  until  Mr.  Lloyd  came  to  look  upon 
him  as  his  model  member,  and  to  feel  somewhat  lost, 
if  for  any  reason  he  was  compelled  to  be  absent. 

But  Mr.  Lloyd  was  not  his  only  guide  and  instructor. 
Dr.  Chrvstal  had  attracted  him  from  the  verv  first. 
The  sermon  he  preached  on  that  eventful  Sunday 
eveuiiig,  when,  yielding  to  an  impulse  which  seemed 
to  him  little  better  than  curiositv,  he  had  attended 
church  for  the  first  time  in  so  mauv  vears,  had  been 
followed  by  others,  each  one  of  which  met  some  need 
or  auswered  some  question  springing  up  in  Mr.  Bow- 
ser's heart,  and  his  admiration  and  affection  for  the 
eloquent  preacher  had  increased  with  a  steady  growth. 

In  truth  Dr.  Chrystal  was  a  man  of  no  common 
mould.  He  united  in  himself  characteristics  that  might 
seem  to  have  belonged  to  widely  different  natures.  He 
was  deeply  spiritual,  yet  intensely  alive  to  the  spirit  of 
the  times.  He  was  as  thoroughly  conversant  witli 
modern  thought  as  he  was  with  the  history  of  God's 
ancient  people.  Although  a  profound  student,  he  was 
anything  but  a  Dr.  Dry-as-Dust.  On  the  contrary, 
the  very  children  heard  him  gladly  because  he  never 
forgot  them  in  his  sermons.     There  was  always  some- 


HI 


BERT   LLOYD  S    BOYHOOD. 


323 


the  class  that 


thing  for  them  as  well  as  for  the  older  follcs.  Indeed, 
perhaps  one  of  the  best  proofs  of  his  singular  fitness  tor 
his  work  was  the  way  the  young  people  loved  him.  Boys 
like  Bert  and  Frank,  for  instance,  probably  the  hard- 
est class  in  the  congregation  for  the  minister  to  secure  to 
himself,  while  they  never  for  a  moment  felt  tempted  to 
take  any  liberties  with  him,  yet,  on  the  other  hand, 
never  felt  ill  at  ease  in  his  presence,  nor  sought  to 
avoid  him.  He  made  them  feel  at  home  with  him, 
and  the  consequence  was  that  the  proportion  of  boys 
belonging  to  his  church  exceeded  that  of  any  other 
church  in  the  city. 

Dr.  Chrystal  had  of  late  been  causing  his  friends  no 
small  concern  by  showing  signs  of  failing  health. 
His  heart  began  to  give  him  trouble.  So  much  so, 
indeed,  that  now  and  then  he  would  be  obliged  to 
pause  in  the  midst  of  his  sermon,  and  rest  a  little 
before  resuming.  His  physician  told  him  he  had  been 
working  too  hard,  and  that  what  he  needed  was  to 
take  things  more  easily,  or,  better  still,  to  lay  aside 
his  work  for  a  season,  and  recuperate  by  a  good  Jong 
vacation. 

At  first  he  would  not  listen  to  any  such  proposition. 
There  seemed  so  much  to  be  done  all  around  him  that 
would  be  undoubtedly  left  undone  unless  he  did  it 
himself,  that  he  felt  as  if  he  could  not  desert  his  post. 
But  it  soon  became  clear  to  him  that  tlie  warnirgs  he 
had  received  must  be  heeded,  and  ere  long  he  wjis  able 
to  make  up  his  mind  to  follow  the  physician's  advice, 


I  n 


,    4f-  J  fs""-"  mm 


324 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


and  indulge  himself  with  an  ocean  voyage,  and  pro- 
longed vacation  in  Europe. 

As  the  time  for  his  temporary  separation  from  his 
congregation  drew  near  there  was  a  marked  increase  of 
fervor  and  lovmg  earnestness  on  the  part  of  Dr. 
Chrystal  toward  his  people.  It  was  as  though  he 
thought  he  might  perhaps  never  return  to  them,  and 
it  therefore  behooved  him  not  only  to  preach  with 
special  unction,  but  to  lose  no  opportunity  of  saying 
to  each  one  with  whom  he  came  in  contact  something 
that  might  remain  with  them  as  a  fruitful  recollection 
in  the  event  of  its  proving  to  be  his  last  word  to  tliem. 
Meeting  Bert  upon  the  street  one  day,  he  linked  his 
arm  with  his,  and  entered  at  once  into  a  conversation 
regarding  the  boy's  spiritual  interests.  Bert  felt  per- 
fectly at  home  with  his  pastor,  and  did  not  hesitate  tc^ 
speak  with  him  in  the  same  spirit  of  frank  unreserve 
that  he  would  with  his  father.       . » 

"  I  have  been  thinking  much  about  you,  Bert,"  said 
Dr.  Chrystal,  in  tones  of  warm  affection,  "and  saying 
to  myself  that  if,  in  the  providence  of  God,  I  should 
never  come  back  to  my  work,  I  would  like  to  leave 
something  with  you  that  would  linger  in  your  memory 
after  I  am  gone." 

"  But  you're  coming  back  again  all  right.  Dr. 
Chrystal,"  said  Bert,  looking  up  with  much  concern 
in  his  countenance,  for  he  had  never  thought  of  its 
being  otherwise. 

"  I  am  sure  I  hope  and  pray  so  with  all  my  heart," 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


325 


replied  Dr.  Chrystal,  fervently.  "  But  there  are  many 
tilings  to  be  considered,  and  God  alone  knows  how  it 
will  be  with  me  a  few  months  hence.  I  am  altogether 
in  his  hands.'' 

"Well,  God  knows  right  well  that  we  couldn't  have 
a  better  minister  than  you,  sir,  and  so  there's  no  fear 
but  he'll  send  you  back  to  us  all  right,"  returned  Bert, 
his  eager  loyalty  to  his  pastor  quite  carrying  him 
awav. 

Dr.  Chrystal  smiled  sympathetically  at  the  boy's 
enthusiasm. 

"  There  are  just  as  good  fish  in  the  sea  as  have  ever 
yet  been  caught,  Bert,"  he  answered. 

"  I  thoroughly  appreciate  your  kind,  and  I  know 
sincere,  compliment,  but  it  was  not  to  talk  about  my- 
self that  I  joined  you,  but  about  yourself.  I  have 
been  thinking  that  it  is  full  time  you  took  up  some 
definite  work  for  your  Heavenly  Master.  Don't  you 
think  so,  too?" 

M"Yes,  I  do,  sir;  and  so  does  Frank,  and  we're 
both  quite  willing  to  make  a  beginning,  but  we  don't 
just  know  what  to  go  at." 

"  I  have  been  thinking  about  that,  too,  Bert,  and  I 
have  an  idea  I  want  to  discuss  with  you.  You  know 
the  streets  that  lie  between  the  north  and  south  por- 
tions of  our  city,  and  how  densely  they  are  packed 
with  people,  very  few  of  whom  make  any  pretensions 
to  religion  at  all.  Now,  would  it  not  be  possible  for 
you  and  Frank  to  do  a  little  city  missionary  work  in 


826 


BERT  LLOYD'S   BOYHOOD. 


those  streets.  The  field  is  white  unto  the  harvest, 
but  the  laborers  are  so  few  that  it  is  sad  to  see  how 
little  is  being  done.      What  do  you  think  about  it?" 

Bert  did  not  answer  at  once.  He  knew  well  tlie 
locality  Dr.  Chrystal  iiad  in  mind,  and  the  class  of 
people  that  inhabited  it.  For  square  after  square,  ten- 
ement houses,  tall,  grimy,  and  repulsive,  alternated 
with  groggeries,.  flaunting,  flasliy,  and  reeking  with 
iniquity.  The  residents  were  of  the  lowest  and  poor- 
est order.  Filth,  vice,  and  poverty  held  high  carni- 
val tlie  whole  year  round.  In  the  day  time  crowds  of 
tattered  gamins  played  roughly  with  one  another  in 
the  streets,  and  after  dark,  drunken  soldiers,  sailors, 
and  wharf  men  made  night  hideous  with  their  de- 
graded revelry  or  frenzied  fighting. 

And  yet  these  people  had  souls  to  save,  and  even 
though  tliey  might  seem  sunken  in  sin  beyond  all 
hope  of  recovery,  they  had  children  that  might  be 
trained  to  better  ways  and  a  brighter  future.  It  was 
these  children  that  Dr.  Chrvstal  had  in  mind  when 
he  spoke  to  Bert.  A  union  mission  school  had  lately 
been  established  in  the  very  heart  of  this  unattractive 
district,  and  it  was  sorely  in  need  of  workers. 

Both  Bert  and  Frank  were  quite  competent  to 
undertake  work  of  this  kind,  did  they  but  give  their 
minds  to  it,  and  Dr.  Chrystal  was  anxious  to  have 
their  interest  in  it  thoroughly  aroused  before  he  went 
away. 

After  a  few  moments'  silence,  during  which  his 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


327 


the  harvest, 
to  see  how 
about  it?" 
lew  well  tlie 
the  class  of 
r  square,  ten- 
iae, alternated 
reeking  with 
^est  and  poor- 
l  high  carni- 
me  crowds  of 
le  another  in 
Idiers,  sailors, 
I'ith  their  de- 
lve, and  even 
n  beyond  all 
bat  might  be 
ture.  It  was 
1  mind  when 
3ol  had  lately 
s  unattractive 
rkers. 

competent  to 
>ut  give  their 
cious  to  have 
efore  he  went 

[ig  which  his 


brain  had  been  very  busy  with  conflicting  thoughts, 
Bert  looked  up  into  his  pastor's  face,  and  said,  in  a 
doubtful  way : 

"  Don't  you  think,  sir,  that  is  rather  hard  work  to 
put  us  at  at  first?" 

Dr.  Chrystal  gave  hini  a  tender  smile.  "  It  is  hard 
work,  I  know,  Bert,"  said  he.  "  I  would  not  for  a 
moment  trv  to  arjjrue  that  it  is  anvthinscelse,  but  I  am 
none  the  less  desirous  of  seeing  vou  ena-aged  in  it. 
You  and  Frank  would  make  splendid  recruiting  ser- 
geants for  the  little  mission  school,  and  you  could 
be  very  helpful  in  keeping  order,  or  even  in  teaching 
at  the  morning  session.  By  doing  this  you  would 
not  interfere  with  eitiier  your  church  going  or  your 
own  Sunday-school  in  the  afternoon.  I  wish  you 
would  talk  the  matter  over  with  Frank,  and  of 
course  consult  your  parents  about  it." 

Bert  readily  promised  that  he  would  do  this,  for 
although  he,  as  was  natural  enough,  shrank  from  un- 
dertaking what  could  not  be  otherwise  than  trying 
and  difficult  work,  yet  he  felt  that  if  his  father  fully 
approved  of  it,  and  Frank  took  it  up  heartily,  he 
would  be  able  at  least  to  give  it  a  trial.  Dr.  Chrys- 
tal was  evidently  well  pleased  with  the  result  of  the 
conversation,  and  in  parting  with  Bert  took  his  hand 
in  his,  and  pressing  it  warmly,  said : 

"  God's  best  blessings  be  upon  you,  Bert.  You  are 
fitted  to  do  good  work  for  him.  May  you  ever  be  a 
workman  that  needeth  not  to  be  ashamed." 


nil 


llll 


wm 


ipup 


t 


328 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


Little  did  Bert  imagine  that  these  would  be  the 
last  words  Dr.  Chrystal  would  address  to  him  per- 
sonally, or  tliat,  as  he  turned  away  with  a  seraphin 
smile  upon  his  face,  he  would  see  him  but  once  more 
alive. 

The  following  Sunday  was  the  last  that  Dr.  Chrys- 
tal would  spend  with  his  congr^'gation  previous  to  his 
going  away,  and  as  he  appeared  before  them  at  the 
morning  service  it  was  the  general  opinion  that  his 
abstention  from  work  was  taking  place  none  too  soon, 
for  he  certainly  seemed  to  sorely  need  it. 

In  spite  of  evident  weakness,  he  preached  with  un- 
abated eloquence  and  fervor.  Indeed,  he  was  per- 
liaps  more  earnest  than  usual,  and  his  sermon  made  a 
profound  impression  upon  the  congregation  that 
thronged  the  church.  In  the  afternoon  he  visited  the 
Sunday-school,  and  said  a  word  or  two  to  each  one  of 
the  teachers  as  he  passed  up  and  down  the  classes. 
The  evening  service  found  the  church  filled  to  its 
utmost  capacity,  and  a  smile  of  inexpressible  love  and 
sweetness  illuminated  the  pastor's  pale  face  as  he  came 
out  from  the  study,  and  beheld  the  multitude  gathered 
to  hear  the  gospel  from  his  lips. 

"Doesn't  he  look  like  an  angel?''  whispered  Bert 
to  Frank,  as  the  boys  sat  together  in  their  accus- 
tomed place.  •''  ■     •  ;     ^     ^  ;    -' 

"He  doesn't  simply  look  like  one.  He  is  one," 
Frank  whispered  back,  and  Bert  nodded  his  assent. 

The  service  proceeded  with   singing  and   prayer 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


329 


would  be  tlie 
to  him  per- 
il a  serapliio 
Mit  once  more 

it  Dr.  Chrvs- 

evious  to  his 

them  at  the 

nion  that  his 

lone  too  soon, 

jhed  with  un- 
he  was  per- 
rmon  made  a 
egation  that 
he  visited  the 
3  each  one  of 
I  the  classes, 
filled  to  its 
ible  love  and 
?e  as  he  came 
ude  gathered 

lispered  Bert 
their  accus- 


j} 


He  is  one, 
his  assent, 
and   prayer 


and  Bible  reading,  and  then  came  the  sermon.  Dr. 
Chrystai  was  evidently  laboring  under  strong  emotion. 
His  words  did  not  at  first  flow  with  their  wonted 
freedom,  and  some  among  his  listeners  began  to  think 
it  would  have  been  well  if  he  had  not  attempted  to 
preach.  But  presently  all  this  hesitation  passed 
away,  and  he  launched  out  into  an  earnest  impas- 
sioned appeal  to  his  people  to  be  steadfast,  unmoviible, 
always  abounding  in  the  work  of  the  Lord.  Although 
he  did  not  say  expressly  that  this  might  be  tJje  last 
time  he  would  ever  speak  to  them  from  the  pulpit, 
there  was  something  in  his  manner  that  showed  this 
thought  was  present  in  his  mind. 

He  had  gotten  about  half  through  his  sermon,  and 
every  eye  in  that  congregation  was  fixed  upon  him, 
and  every  ear  attent  to  his  burning  words,  when  sud- 
denly he  stopped.  A  deadly  pallor  took  possession  of 
his  face;  he  pressed  his  left  hand  with  a  gesture  of 
pain  against  his  heart,  while  with  the  other  he  strove 
to  steady  himself  in  the  pulpit.  For  a  moment  he 
stood  there  silent,  and  swaying  to  and  fro  before  the 
startled  congregation ;  and  then,  ere  Mr.  Lloyd,  who 
had  l)een  watching  him  intently  all  through  the  ser- 
vice, could  spring  up  the  steps  to  his  side,  he  fell  back 
with  a  dull  thud  upon  the  cushioned  seat  behind  him, 
and  thence  sank  to  tiie  floor. 

When  Mr.  Lloyd  reached  him,  and  bending  down 
lifted  him  in  his  strong  arms  from  the  floor.  Dr. 
Chrystai  opened  his  eyes,  looked  upon  his  friend  with 


II  ■ 


■'^SP 


330 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


a  smile  that  seemed  a  reflection  from  heaven,  breathed 
softly  the  words :  "  The  Lord  be  with  you,"  and  then, 
witii  a  gentle  sigh,  closed  his  eyes  to  open  them  again 
in  the  presence  of  the  Master  he  had  served  so  well. 

It  is  not  possible  to  describe  the  scene  that  followed, 
when  all  present  became  aware  that  their  beloved 
pastor  had  gone  from  them  upon  a  journey  from 
which  there  could  be  no  returning.  They  were  so 
stunned,  saddened,  and  bewildered,  that  they  knew 
not  what  to  do  with  themselves.  The  men  and 
women  sat  weeping  in  their  seats,  or  wandered  aim- 
lessly about  the  aisles  to  speak  with  one  another, 
while  the  children,  not  realizing  the  full  import  of 
what  had  happened,  looked  on  in  fear  and  wonder. 
It  was  some  time  before  the  congregation  dispersed. 
Dr.  Chrvstal's  bodv  was  tenderlv  carried  into  the 
study,  and  there  was  nothing  more  to  do;  and  yet 
they  lingered  about  as  if  hoping  that  perhaps  it  might 
prove  to  be  only  a  faint  or  trance,  after  all,  for  it 
seemed  so  hard  to  believe  the  dreadful  truth. 

As  Bert  and  Frank  walked  home  together,  with 
hearts  full  to  overflowing  and  tear-stained  faces, 
Mr.  Silver  caught  up  to  them,  and  pushing  them 
apart,  took  an  arm  of  each.  For  a  few  steps  he  said 
nothing  ;  and  then,  as  if  musing  to  himself: 

"'God  buries  his  workmen,  but  his  work  goes  on/ 
Our  pastor  has  gone.  He  is  not — because  God  iias 
taken  him — not  dead,  but  translated.  Upon  whom 
will  his  mantle  fall,  bovs  ?  " 


BERT  LLOYDS    BOYHOOD. 


331 


'aven,  breathed 

'ou,"  and  then, 

)en  them  again 

served  so  well. 

J  that  followed, 

their  beloved 

journey  from 

They  were  so 

lat  they  knew 

The   men   and 

wandered  aim- 

1  one  another, 

full  import  of 

r  and  wonder. 

ition  dispersed. 

irried  into  the 

:o  do:  and  vet 

jrhaps  it  might 

fter  all,  for  it 

truth. 

together,  with 
-stained  faces, 
pushing  them 
w  steps  he  said 
self: 

work  goes  on." 

cause  God  iias 

Upon  whom 


"  I  am  sure  I  don't  know,  Mr.  Silver,"  replied 
Bert.  '*  But  this  I  do  know,  that  we  can  never  have 
a  bettor  minister." 

"  No,  I  suppose  not — according  to  our  way  of  think- 
ing, at  all  events ;  but  we  must  not  let  that  thought 
paralyze  our  energies.  The  vacant  pulpit  has  its 
lesson  for  each  one  of  us,  boys,"  returned  Mr. 
Silver. 

"  Yes,  it  means  work,  and  it  seems  so  strange  that 
Dr.  Chrystal  should  have  spoken  to  me  as  he  did  the 
very  last  time  he  saw  me,"  said  Bert.  And  then  he 
proceeded  to  repeat  the  conversation  concerning  the 
city  mission  work. 

"  I  am  so  glad  he  spoke  to  you  about  that,"  said 
Mr.  Silver.  "  I  had  intended  doing  so  myself,  but  it 
has  been  far  better  done  now.  You  will  do  what  you 
can,  both  of  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  we  will,"  replied  Bert  and  Frank  together, 
in  tones  of  unmistakable  purpose. 

"  Perliaps,  then,"  said  Mr.  Silver,  reflectively,  "  the 
question  I  asked  a  moment  ago  may  yet  be  answered 
by  you,  dear  boys.  Would  you  like  to  think  that 
Dr  riirystal's  mantle  should  fall  upon  you,  and  that 
in  due  time  you  should  take  up  the  glorious  work  he 
has  ju-'  laid  down?  To  what  nobler  career  can  a 
man  a.  |)ire  than  that  of  being  one  of  the  Master's 
shepherds?" 

The  boys  were  silent.  The  thought  was  new  to 
them,  and  altog  iher  too  great  to  be  grasped  at  once. 


li 
ji 


>  In 


fninvi 


332 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


And  Mr.  Silver  wisely  did  not  press  them  for  an 
answer  before  he  bade  them  "  Good-night  and  God 
bless  you  both." 

But  his  question  lemained  in  their  minds.  It 
proved  a  seed  thought  that  in  the  case  of  one  of  them 
was  later  on  destined  to  find  itself  in  good  ground, 
and  to  spring  up  and  bear  goodly  fruit. 


m 


D. 


S8  them  for  an 
•night  and  God 

leir  minds.  It 
i  of  one  of  them 
in  good  ground, 
t. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 


A  BOY  NO  LONGER. 


FHANK  and  Bert  put  their  hearts  into  the  city 
mission  work,  just  as  they  did  into  everything 
else  tliat  they  undertook,  and  it  was  well  they  did. 
For  surely  nothing  save  genuine  zeal,  and  fidelity  to 
a  strong  purpose  could  have  carried  them  through  the 
experiences  that  awaited  them.  The  mission  school 
was  still  small  and  struggling.  But  for  the  almost 
heroic  energies  of  its  superintendent,  a  clerk  in  a  city 
banking  house,  it  could  not  have  been  carried  on  at 
all.  He  was  a  small,  slight,  fragile-looking  man,  but 
he  had  a  heart  big  enough  for  a  giant,  and  having 
consecrated  his  spare  hours  to  this  most  unattractive 
of  all  phases  of  C.  ristiun  work,  he  carried  it  on  with 
a  self-denying  earnestness  that  no  difficulties  could 
dampen,  nor  obstacles  appall.  He  was  as  ready  with 
his  purse,  to  the  extent  of  its  slender  ability,  as  he 
was  with  his  Bible,  and  his  splendid  unselfishness  was 
so  well  appreciated  by  the  dangerous  degraded  beings 
among  whom  he  toiled,  that  alone  and  unprotected  he 
might  go  among  them  at  any  hour  of  the  day  or 
night,  and  meet  with  nothing  but  respect  and  rude 
courtesv. 
Such  a  man  was  David  McMaster,  under  whose 

888 


'.'ini 


If, 

m 


334 


BERT  LLOYD  8   BOYHOOD. 


direction  Bert  and  Frank  lost  no  time  in  placing  them- 
selves ;  and  a  right  glad  welcome  they  had  from  him, 
his  pale  thin  face  fairly  glowing  with  pleasure  at  tiie 
addition  to  his  force  of  two  such  promising  recruits. 
With  him  they  wsnt  the  rounds  of  squalid  tenemeuts, 
hideous  back  alleys,  aud  repulsive  shanties,  the  tattered 
children  gazing  at  them  with  faces  in  which  curiosity 
was  mingled  with  aversion,  and  their  frowsy  parents 
giving  them  looks  of  enmity  and  mistrust,  no  doubt 
because  they  were  so  clean  and  well  dressed. 

But  apparently  noting  nothing  of  this,  Mr.  McMas- 
ter  led  the  way  from  one  rookery  to  another,  introduc- 
ing his  new  workers  to  their  wretched  inhabitants  with 
an  easy  grace  that  disarmed  all  suspicion,  and  made 
them  feel  that  so  long  as  he  was  the  presiding  genius 
of  the  school,  they  had  nothing  to  fear  in  the  worst 
locality. 

The  following  Sunday  morning  they  began  work  on 
their  own  account.  The  school  was  held  at  ten  o'clock, 
closing  just  in  time  to  permit  the  teachers  to  get  to 
church,  aud  the  part  assigned  to  Bert  and  Frank  was 
to  go  out  into  the  highways  and  by-ways,  aud  invite 
the  children  playing  in  the  dirt  to  come  to  the  school, 
or  else  to  go  to  the  homes,  if  such  they  could  be  called, 
of  those  whose  names  were  already  upon  the  roll,  and 
secure  their  attendance  at  the  service. 

Then  when  the  school  opened  they  found  plenty  to 
do,  distributing  the  hymn  books,  helping  in  the  sing- 
ings keeping  a  sharp  lookout   for  unruly  behavior, 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


335 


I  placing  theiu- 
liad  from  him, 
pleasure  at  tlie 
lining  recruits, 
ilid  tenemeuts, 
es,  the  tattered 
hich  curiosity 
rowsy  parents 
rust,  no  doubt 
3sed. 

,  Mr.  McMas- 
ther,  introduc- 
habitauts  with 
ou,  and  made 
Residing  geuius 
'  in  the  worst 

)egau  work  ou 
at  ten  o'clock, 
ihers  to  get  to 
ud  Frank  was 
ys,  and  invite 
to  tiie  school, 
[)uld  be  called, 
a  the  roll,  and 

und  plenty  to 
g  in  the  sing- 
uly  behavior. 


watching  tlie  door  lest  any  scholar  should  take  it  into 
ins  head  to  bolt,  insuring  an  equitable  division  of  the 
picture  papers,  and  so  on  until  the  hour  came  to  close 
the  school,  and  tiiey  turned  their  steps  cliurchward, 
feeling  with  good  reason  that  they  had  really  been 
doing  work  for  God,  and  hard  work,  too. 

They  soon  grew  to  love  Mr.  McMaster  as  much  as 
they  admired  his  zeal.  He  was  in  many  ways  a  quaint, 
curious  character.  His  body  seemed  so  small  and 
insignificant,  and  his  spirit  so  mighty.  He  knew 
neither  fear  nor  despair  in  the  prosecution  of  his 
chosen  work,  and  it  was  impossible  to  b^  associated 
with  him  without  being  infected  by  his  unquenchable 
ardor.  For  some  time  no  special  incident  marked 
their  work,  and  then  Bert  had  an  experience  that 
might  have  brought  his  part  with  it  to  an  end  had  he 
been  made  of  less  sturdy  stuff. 

In  company  with  Mr.  McMaster  he  was  making  the 
usual  round  previous  to  the  opening  of  the  school, 
beating  up  unreliable  scholars,  and  had  entered  a  damp, 
noisome  alley,  lined  on  either  side  wi  \  tumble-down 
apologies  for  houses.  Mr.  McMaster  took  one  side 
and  Bert  the  other,  and  they  proceeded  to  visit  the 
different  dwellers  in  this  horrible  place.  Bert  had 
knocked  at  several  dooi*s  without  getting  any  response 
for  the  people  were  apt  to  lie  in  bed  late  on  Sunday 
morning,  and  then  liis  attention  was  aroused  by  sounds 
of  crying  mingled  with  oaths,  that  came  from  the  gar- 
ret of  a  villainous-lookinir  tenement.     He  could  hear 


336 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


the  voices  of  a  woman  and  of  a  child  raised  in  entreaty 
and  terror,  and  without  pausing  to  consider  the  conse- 
quences, sprang  up  the  broken  stairs  to  the  room  from 
which  they  issued. 

On  opening  the  door  a  scene  presented  itself  that 
would  have  stirred  the  sympathies  of  a  man  of  stone. 
Pat  Brannigan,  the  big  wharf  laborer,  had  devoted 
the  greater  portion  of  his  week's  wages  to  in? king 
himself  and  his  boon  .companions  drunk  with  the  vi!e 
rum  dealt  out  at  the  groggery  hard  by.  At  midnight 
he  had  stumbled  home,  and  throwing  himself  upon 
his  bed  sought  to  sleep  off  the  effects  of  his  carouse. 
Waking  up  late  in  the  morning  with  a  raging  head- 
ache, a  burning  tongue,  and  bloodshot  eyes,  he  had 
become  infuriated  at  his  poor  little  girl,  that  cowered 
tremblingly  in  a  corner,  because  she  would  not  go  out 
and  get  him  some  more  drink.  Half-crazed,  and 
utterly  reckless,  he  had  sprung  at  the  child,  and  might 
have  inflicted  mortal  injury  upon  her  had  not  the 
mother  interposed,  and  kept  him  at  bay  for  a  moment, 
while  she  joined  her  shrieks  to  those  the  girl  was 
already  uttering. 

It  was  just  at  this  moment  that  Bert  entered  the 
room.  As  quick  as  a  flai^h  he  sprang  to  Pat  Branni- 
gan's  side,  and  seized  his  arm  now  uplifted  to  strike 
down  the  unhappy  wife.  With  a  howl  of  rage  the 
big  brute  turned  to  see  who  had  thus  dared  to  inter- 
fere. He  did  not  know  Bert,  and  his  surprise  at  see- 
ing a  well-dressed  stranger  in  the  room  made  him 


sed  in  entreaty 
ider  the  conse- 
the  room  from 

ted  itself  that 
.  man  of  stone. 
',  had  devoted 
jes  to  in?kiny; 
k  with  the  vi!e 
At  midnight 
himself  upon 
uf  his  carouse, 
a,  raging  head- 
t  eyes,  he  had 
I,  that  cowered 
uld  not  go  out 
df-crazed,  and 
ild,  and  might 
'  had  not  the 
for  a  moment, 
3  the  girl  was 

ert  entered  the 
o  Pat  Branni- 
ilifted  to  strike 
w\  of  rage  the 
dared  to  inter- 
lurprise  at  see- 
om  made  him 


mi 


Bert  Llcyil's  lioylidod. 


Piigy  ■■:?/>. 


.fir 


& 


,* 


.--a  •, 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


337 


hesitate  a  moment.  Then,  with  an  oath,  he  de- 
manded : 

"Who  may  you  be,  and  what's  your  business 
here?" 

Bert  looked  straight  into  his  eyes,  as  he  answered, 
quietly : 

"  I  heard  the  noise,  and  I  came  in  to  see  what  was 
the  matter.'' 

"  Then  you  can  just  be  taking  yourself  off  again  as 
fast  as  you  like,"  growled  the  giant,  fiercely. 

Bert  did  not  stir. 

"  Be  off  with  you  now.  Do  you  hear  me?"  shouted 
Brannigan,  raising  his  clenched  fist  in  a  way  there  was 
no  mistaking. 

Still  Bert  did  not  move. 

"  Then  take  that,"  yelled  Brannigan,  aiming  a  ter- 
rible blow  at  the  boy.  But  before  it  could  reach  him 
the  poor  wife,  with  a  wild  shriek,  sprang  in  between 
them,  and  her  husband's  great  fist  descended  upon  her 
head,  felling  her  to  the  floor,  where  she  lay  as  though 
dead. 

At  this  moment,  Mr.  McMaster  rushed  in  through 
the  open  door.  Pat  Branuigan  knew  him  well,  and 
when  sober  held  him  in  profound  respect.  Even 
now  his  appearance  checked  his  fury,  and  he  stood 
swaying  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  looking  with  his 
bleared  bloodshot  eyes,  first  at  Mr.  McMaster,  and 
then  at  the  motionless  heap  upon  the  floor  at  his  feet. 

Advancing  a  step  or  two,  Mr.  McMaster  looked 

W 


iSS^ 


If: 


338 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


into  Brannigan's  fiery  face,  and  asked,  sternly,  as  he 
pointed  to  the  insensible  woman  lying  between  them : 

"  Is  that  yonr  work  ?  " 

The  giant  quailed  before  the  fearless,  condemning 
glance  of  the  man  who  seemed  like  a  pigmy  beside 
him.  His  head  fell  upon  his  breast,  and  without  at- 
tempting a  reply,  he  slunk  over  to  the  other  end  of 
the  room,  flung  himself  into  a  chair,  and  buried  his 
face  in  his  hands. 

"  Come,  Bert,  let  us  lift  her  up  on  the  bed,"  said 
Mr.  McMaster,  and  between  them  Mrs.  Brannigau 
was  lifted  gently,  and  placed  upon  the  miserable  bed. 

"Now,  Katie,  get  us  some  cold  water,  quick,"  said 
he,  turning  to  the  little  girl,  who  watched  him  with 
wondering  eyes.  As  if  glad  to  get  out  of  the  room, 
she  sped  away,  and  presently  returned  with  a  tin  of 
water,  with  which  Mr.  McMaster  tenderly  bathed 
Mrs.  Brannigan's  forehead,  and  soon  the  poor  sutFerer 
recovered  consciousness.  Mr.  McMaster  and  Bert 
then  went  away,  the  former  promising  to  look  in 
again  after  school  was  over,  and  see  if  further  help 
might  be  required. 

When  Bert  told  of  the  morning's  experience  at 
home,  his  mother  became  very  much  agitated,  and 
seemed  strongly  inclined  to  oppose  his  continuing  the 
work.  But  Mr.  Lloyd  was  not  of  the  same  opinion 
at  all.  He  thought  it  a  very  admirable  training  for 
Bert,  and  Bert  himself  had  no  disposition  to  give  it 
Up.     Accordingly,  he  went  on  as  though  nothing  had 


;n 


BERT  LLOYD'S   BOYHOOD. 


339 


11  to  give  it 


happened,  meeting  with  many  discouragements,  and 
few  real  successes,  yet  sustained  by  a  steady  impulse 
to  willing  service,  strengthened  by  a  real  interest  in 
the  work  itself. 

The  days  of  Bert's  boyhood  were  rapidly  passing 
by.  The  time  was  approaching  for  him  to  enter 
college,  and  once  enrolled  as  an  undergraduate  he 
could  of  course  be  counted  a  bov  no  lousrer.  Not  in- 
deed  that  he  was  growing  old  in  the  sense  of  becoming 
too  prim  or  particular  to  indulge  in  boyish  sports  and 
pranks.  There  was  nothing  premature  in  his  de- 
velopment. He  was  in  advance  of  many  boys  of  his 
age,  it  is  true,  but  that  was  only  because  he  strove  to 
be. 

He  was  not  content  unless  he  stood  among  the  lead- 
ers, whether  in  study  or  sport.  He  looked  forward 
to  college  with  ardent  expectation.  Ever  since  the 
davs  of  Mr.  Garrison's  school  he  had  been  accus- 
tomed  to  see  the  students  in  their  Oxford  caps  and 
flowing  black  gowns  going  to  and  from  the  university 
which  had  its  home  in  a  handsome  free-stone  building 
that  stood  right  in  the  heart  of  the  city,  and  he  had 
felt  impatient  for  the  time  to  come  when  he  might 
adopt  the  same  odd  and  striking  costume. 

During  the  past  year  his  studies  had  been  directed 
with  special  reference  to  the  matriculation  examina- 
tion. As  regards  the  classics,  he  could  not  have  had  a 
better  teacher  than  Dr.  Johnston,  and  his  progress  in 
knowledge  of  them  had  been  sure  and  steady.     la 


ipip^ 


340 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


matliematics,  however,  he  was  hardly  up  to  the  mark, 
j)artly  hecause  they  were  not  taught  with  the  same 
enthusiasm  at  Dr.  Johnston's,  and  partly  because  he 
did  not  take  to  them  very  kindly  himself.  Mr.  Lloyd 
accordingly  thought  it  wise  to  engage  a  tutor  who 
would  give  him  daily  lessons  during  the  midsummer 
holidavs. 

Bert,  as  was  quite  natural,  did  not  altogether  relish 
the  idea  of  mingling  work  with  play  in  this  fashion 
in  the  glorious  summer  weather  when  the  days  seemed 
all  too  short  for  the  enjoyment  that  was  to  be  had; 
but  when  Frank,  who  was  of  course  to  go  to  college 
also,  entered  heartily  into  the  plan,  and  Mr.  Scott,  the 
tutor,  proved  to  be  a  very  able  and  interesting  instruc- 
tor, full  of  enthusiasm  about  the  university,  in  vvhich 
he  was  one  of  the  most  brilliant  students,  Bert's 
indifference  soon  disappeared,  and  the  three  lads — for 
Mr.  Scott  was  still  in  his  teens — had  a  fine  time  to- 
gether that  summer,  studying  hard  for  two  hours  each 
morning,  and  spending  the  rest  of  the  day  in  boating, 
or  cricket,  or  some  other  pleasant  fashion. 

As  the  heat  of  summer  yielded  to  the  cool  breezes 
of  autumn,  and  the  time  for  the  opening  of  the  college 
drew  near,  Bert  grew  very  excited.  There  were  two 
scholarships  offered  at  each  matriculation  examination, 
one  open  to  those  coming  from  the  city,  the  other  to 
those  from  the  country.  He  had  fixed  his  ambition 
upon  the  city  scholarship,  and  determined  to  do  his 
best  to  win  it.     He  had  caught  some  of  his  tutor's 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


341 


>  to  the  mark, 
'ith  the  same 
ly  because  he 
Mr.  Lloyd 
a  tutor  who 
e  midsummer 

ogether  relish 
i  tiiis  fashion 
e  days  seemed 
IS  to  be  had; 

go  to  college 
kir.  Scott,  the 
sting  instrnc- 
lity,  in  which 
dents,  Bert's 
ree  lads — for 
fine  time  to- 
^o  hours  each 
y  in  boating, 
1. 

cool  breezes 
)f  the  college 
?re  were  two 
examination, 

the  other  to 
his  ambition 

id  to  do  his 
f  his  tutor's 


enthusiasm,  and  fully  appreciated  the  importance 
of  a  brilliant  beginning.  Accordingly,  he  gave  dili- 
gent heed  to  the  good  advice  Mr.  Scott  delighted  to 
give  him,  as  well  as  to  the  studies  he  set  for  him, 
and  looked  forward  hopefully  to  tic  approaching  ex- 
amination. 

Toward  the  end  of  October  the  examination  took 
place.  It  was  the  boys'  first  experience  of  a  written 
examination,  and  it  is  little  wonder  if  they  felt  nerv- 
ous about  it. 

With  Mr.  Scott  as  guide  they  made  their  way  to 
the  university  building,  where  he  led  them  along  the 
echoing  stone  corridors  to  a  door  inscribed,  '*  Library ;" 
and  then,  wishing  them  the  best  of  fortune,  bade 
them  enter  and  try  their  fate.  They  found  themselves 
in  a  large  bright  room  whose  floor  was  covered  with 
desks,  and  the  walls  lined  with  bookcases,  and  hav- 
ing at  one  end  a  baize-covered  table,  around  which  sat 
several  spectacled  gentlemen  attired  in  long  black 
gowns,  and  chatting  busily  with  one  another.  They 
took  no  notice  of  the  two  boys,  who  sat  down  at  the 
nearest  desk,  and  awaited  developments.  They  were 
the  first  candidates  in  the  room,  but  others  presently 
came  in  until  more  than  a  score  had  gathered. 

All  evidently  felt  more  or  less  nervous,  although 
some  tried  very  hard  to  appear  unconcerned.  They 
varied  in  age  from  Bert,  who  was  undoubtedly  the 
youngest,  to  a  long-bearded,  sober-visaged  Scotchman, 
who  might  almost  have  been  his  father;  their  appear- 


342 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


ance  was  as  different  as  their  ages,  some  being  spruce, 
well-dressed  city  lads,  and  others  the  most  rustic- 
looking  of  youths,  clad  in  rough  homespun.  They 
each  sat  down  in  the  first  seat  they  could  find,  and 
then  stared  about  them  as  if  they  would  like  very 
much  to  know  what  was  going  to  happen  next. 

They  had  not  long  to  wait  in  uncertainty.  A  short, 
stout  pleasant-faced  professor  disengaged  himself  from 
the  group  at  the  table,  and  stepping  up  to  the  plat- 
form, said,  in  a  smooth  voice,  with  a  strong  Scotch 
accent : 

"  If  you  are  ready  to  begin,  gentlemen,  will  you 
please  arrange  yourselves  so  as  to  occupy  only  every 
alternate  desk." 

There  was  a  little  noise  and  bustle  as  this  order  was 
being  carried  out,  and  then  they  settled  down  again, 
with  a  vacant  desk  between  each  pair  as  a  precaution 
against  whispered  assistance.  Tiie  next  proceeding 
was  to  distribute  paper  to  the  candidates,  they  being 
expected  to  supply  their  own  pens  and  ink.  And 
then  came  what  all  were  awaiting  with  beating  pulse — 
viz.,  the  examination  paper.  Each  one  as  he  received 
his  paper  ran  his  eye  eagerly  down  the  list  of  ques- 
tions, his  countenance  growing  bright  or  gloomy 
according  as,  to  this  hasty  survey,  the  questions  seemed 
easy  or  difficult. 

Bert  scanne<i  his  list  rapidly,  gave  a  great  sigh  of 
relief,  and  then  turned  to  Frank  with  a  meaning 
smile,  which  said  more  plainly  than  words: 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


343 


« I'm  all  right." 

Frunk  sinileii  back,  in  token  that  he  was  all  right, 
too,  aiul  then  the  two  boys  bent  to  their  work. 

They  did  not  get  along  very  fast  at  tiie  start.  It 
was  their  first  written  examination,  and  tliis,  added  to 
their  natural  nervousness,  kept  both  tlicir  ideas  and 
their  ink  from  flowing  freely.  But  after  a  few  min- 
utes they  forgot  themselves  in  their  eagerness  to 
commit  to  paper  the  answers  to  the  questions  before 
them,  and  for  an  jjour  or  more  they  scribbled  away 
until  tiie  first  paper,  which  was  upon  the  classics,  had 
notiiing  unanswered  left  upon  it. 

Bert  finished  first,  and  tiie  professor,  noticing  him 
unemployed,  brought  him  another  paper,  this  time 
the  mathematical  one.  As  he  expected,  he  did  not  do 
quite  as  well  with  it.  But  he  felt  sure  of  being  right 
in  his  answers  to  six  out  of  the  ten  questions,  and 
very  hopeful  about  two  others,  so  that  altogether  he 
was  well  satisfied. 

The  third  and  last  paper  was  upon  the  English 
branches — history,  grammar,  geography,  and  so  forth, 
and  he  polished  this  off  with  little  difficulty,  making 
a  clean  sweep  of  the  dozen  question.  All  tiiis  took 
until  after  one  o'clock,  and  when  he  laid  down  his 
pen  with  his  task  finished,  he  felt  pretty  tired,  and 
anxious  to  get  out  and  stretch  himself.  Frank,  how- 
ever, was  not  quite  through,  so  he  waited  for  him, 
and  then  the  friends  hurried  off  to  compare  notes,  and 
estimate  their  chances. 


344 


BERT   LLOYD^S   BOYHOOD. 


The  results  would  not  be  declared  for  two  days  at 
least,  and  Bert  found  it  very  hard  to  keep  his  im- 
patience in  check.  He  could  think  of  nothing  else 
.  tiian  those  examinations.  Having:  answered  so  many 
questions,  he  felt  ;'<ot  the  slightest  uneasiness  as  to 
passing;  but  the  scholarship — ah  !  that  was  the  point. 
Mr.  Scott  had  made  it  very  clear  what  an  important 
position  a  scholarship  winner  held  in  his  class.  It 
gave  him  the  lead  at  once,  and  was  in  every  way  an 
honor  to  be  higlily  coveted. 

Well,  the  longest  days  have  their  ending,  and  the 
two  days  of  excited  uncertainty  dragged  themselves 
past,  and  on  Friday  morning  with  a  heart  beating  like 
a  trip  hammer,  Bert  hastened  to  the  university.  The 
results  would  be  posted  up  on  a  huge  blackboard  that 
hung  in  the  central  corridor,  and  on  entering  he  found 
an  eager  crowd  thronging  about  this  board,  through 
which  he  had  some  difficulty  in  making  his  v/ay. 
But  by  dint  of  pushing  and  elbowing,  he  soon  got  near 
enoucrh  to  make  out  what  was  written  on  the  loner 
sheets  of  paper  that  occupied  the  centre  of  the  board, 
and  then — how  shall  be  described  the  bound  of  wild 
delight  his  heart  gave,  when  he  read :  "  TJie  City 
Scholarship — Cuthbert  Lloyd." 

Then  underneath  the  word  "Passed/^  in  large  letters, 
the  name  "  Cuthbert  Lloyd,"  and  a  few  names 
lower  down  "  Frank  Bowser,"  while  below  them 
were  the  rest  of  the  candidates. 

Frank  was  beside  him,  and  by  a  common  impulse 


BERT   LT.O'iT)\s   BOYHOOD. 


345 


of  joy  the  two  friends  threw  their  arms  about  each 
otlier,  and  hugged  one  another  like  two  enthusiastic 
young  bears.  Then  tliey  ran  off  as  fast  as  their  legs 
could  carry  them  to  tell  the  good  news. 

There  was  not  a  happier,  prouder  family  in  all 
Acadia  that  night  than  the  Lloyds.  Mr.  Bowser  and 
Frr^nk  came  in  to  exchange  congratulations,  and  they 
rejoiced  together  over  the  boys'  success.  Mr.  Bowser 
was  as  delighted  over  Frank's  passing  as  Mr.  Lloyd 
was  over  Bert's  scholarship.  Like  many  men  of  de- 
fective education,  he  had  very  vague  views  about  col- 
lege. It  was  all  a  mystery  to  him,  and  that  Frank, 
whom  he  was  just  finding  out  to  be  something  more 
than  a  boy,  should  so  easily  penetrate  these  mysteries, 
and  take  a  good  place  among  the  candidates  for  admis- 
sion, was  a  source  of  unbounded  satisfaction  to  him. 

After  the  first  exuberance  of  joy  had  subsided,  the 
conversation  sobered  down  somewhat,  and  thev  began 
to  talk  about  the  future. 

"Now,  young  gentlemen, — for  I  suppose  I  dare  not 
call  you  boys  any  longer,"  said  Mr.  Lloyd,  smilingly, 
— "you  should  soon  be  making  up  your  minds  as  to 
what  part  in  life  you  intend  to  take,  because,  once 
vou  have  decided,  vour  studies  at  college  should  be 
carried  on  with  that  end  in  view.  Don't  vou  think 
so,  Mr.  Bowser  ?  " 

"  I  most  certainly  do,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Bowser, 
promptly. 

"  Well,  of  course,  it  is  not  a  question  to  be  decided 


346 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


off  hand,"  continued  Mr.  Lloyd,  "  nor  one  which  we 
sliould  decide  for  you,  unless  you  turn  it  over  to  us. 
So  we  will  leave  it  with  you  for  a  while,  if  you  like." 
"  I  don't  think  that's  necessary,  father,"  spoke  up 
Bert.  "  Frank  and  I  have  pretty  well  made  up  our 
minds  already — that  is,  of  coirse,  if  there  is  noobjec- 


» 


tion. 

"And  what  is  your  choice,  Frank?"  asked  Mr. 
Llovd. 

"  I  would  like  to  follow  my  father's  business,  if  he 
will  have  me,  sir,"  answered  Frank,  giving  his  father 
a  look  of  inquiry. 

Mr.  Bowser's  face  flushed  with  pleasure.  He  rose 
from  his  chair,  and  crossing  the  room  to  where  his  son 
sat,  he  put  his  big  hand  upon  his  shoulder,  and  said, 
in  his  heartiest  tones  : 

"  Aye — that  I  will,  my  lad,  and  all  that  I  have 
shall  be  yours  when  I  am  gone." 

"  I  hope  that  won't  be  for  a  long  time  yet,  father," 
said  Frank,  looking  up  affectionately  into  his  father's 
beaming  face. 

"  So  do  I,  my  boy,  so  do  I ;  but  when  it  does 
happen,  God  knows  what  a  comfort  it  will  be  to  me 
to  leave  such  a  son  behind  me."  And  the  tears  slipped 
down  his  broad  cheeks  as  he  went  back  to  his  chair. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence,  for  all  had  been 
affected  by  this  touching  little  scene ;  and  then,  Mr. 
Lloyd,  turning  to  Bert,  inquired  of  him: 

**  And  what  is  your  choice,  Bert  ?  "      -  ' 


BERT  Lloyd's  boyhood. 


347 


>"  asked  Mr. 


that  I  have 


"  Well,  father,  if  you  think  I  can  ever  become  fit 
for  it,  I  would  like  to  be  a  minister,"  he  answered, 
modestly. 

It  was  now  Mr.  Lloyd's  turn  to  become  radiant. 

"  My  darling  boy,  you  could  not  have  delighted  me 
mori,"  li  cried.  "It  has  been  my  desire  and  prayer 
for  you,  that  this  should  be  your  choice,  but  I  have 
said  nothing  to  you,  because  I  wanted  you  to  be  per- 
fectly free  and  ui  jiased  by  any  tiiouglit  of  pleasing 
me.  I  see  clearly  now  that  this  is  the  Lord's  doing, 
and  my  heart  is  full  to  overflowing  with  jov.  God 
bless  you  inviiu  my  boys.  I  am  sure  that  the  hope 
and  praver  oi  us  all  is  that  in  vour  manhood  mav  be 
fulfilled  the  promise  of  vour  bovhood  that  has  been 
so  bright,  and  to  which  you  have  now  bidden  fare- 
well." 

THE   END. 


